Love and Superheroes
by Clockwork Mockingbird
Summary: Richard Gold had a lot on his plate. Being the single father of a 5 year old and running two businesses didn't leave a lot of time for anything, but a sudden trip to the hospital left his life hopelessly intertwined with that of a beautiful young nurse who was suddenly everywhere- and everything- all at once. Rumbelle
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I will not be updating this on any kind of schedule. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. (Sorry)

* * *

Richard Gold was a small, calm man. He'd never been particularly large or strong, saw no reason to get angry if he couldn't be intimidating- and that was hard to do when he barely topped five foot eight and relied on a cane to walk- and used his mind and words rather than his fists. That wasn't to say he wasn't opposed to a weapon or two. A smart man kept a gun under the counter while working in the neighborhood Gold worked in, and a lucky man never had to use it.

His business did well because he never fought with customers (even when he wanted to smack them), merely won them over with charm or beat them with logic rather than his cane. An unsatisfied customer could spell the end of his days as a tailor due to his clientele of not yet big or powerful lawyers who needed fancy but affordable suits. So far he'd managed, and his bank account and heart were both grateful for it.

It kept food on the table, a roof over his son's head, and clothes on their backs that he didn't have to make. Tailoring, making clothes, creating something from scraps of cloth- it was his passion, but not something he wanted to rely on every time one of them needed a new shirt. Making clothes was what he did for a living, and he did love it, but it wasn't something he wanted to do every second of every day, not when they could afford decent clothing made by hands other than his own.

His pawn shop pulled in most of the money, which provided the house that was now finally paid for and the clothes found in other stores, but it was Rumpled Lace that kept his heart light. Tailoring was almost an extinct business nowadays, making clothing by hand not something anyone simply did anymore, but Gold managed to create enough eye-catching things to bring in the odd customer or two.

His wedding dresses were the biggest sellers, and Gold considered that his life's biggest irony: the building he'd gotten in the divorce housed dresses for other girls to wear on their wedding day. But business was business, and he really did make some fabulous gowns if he did say so himself.

The divorce had left him a bit bitter at first, and years later he could admit that, but if he'd never been married he never would have had his son, and that alone was worth any price. Even if the price was his ex-wife.

Bae was a wonderful child, and Gold loved him with all his heart. However, he was also a curious child, as much as it pained Gold. The perpetually bed-headed five year old was still in his terrible two phase and showed no signs of outgrowing it anytime soon. He got into _everything_. If he could reach it, it was his, and if he couldn't, he found a way to get to it. Or in it. Or up it. Or around it. The cabinet under the sink, the small space behind the tool shelf in the garage, the half dead cherry tree in the back yard… all his territory, all very dangerous, and something Gold just could _not_ keep his son out of no matter how many times he told him.

Gold was convinced his son was trying to drive him to an early grave, but he didn't really have the heart to stop the boy. And he remembered that freedom, even envied it, and would not deny his child that. The world was dark and dull to an adult. Bae had a few years of light left. Who was he to deny him that?

It usually worked out anyway, much to Gold's relief. The tool shelf never fell over, and the pipe under the sink had easily been replaced no problem, but the cherry tree was veering into danger territory, and its days were numbered.

That number bottomed out at zero when Gold heard a snap, followed by the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard in his entire life.

Baelfire was screaming.

Later, it would be pinpointed as the moment everything in their lives changed, but just then it was simply a terrifying moment for both father and son.

As fast as his leg would let him, Gold hobbled into the backyard, wishing for the thousandth time that he could run, and found Bae crumpled on the ground, wailing, clutching his leg, his foot at an awkward angle, and that was very, very bad.

Gold the business man was a very calm person.

Gold the father with an injured child was very much not.

The hospital was twenty minutes away, an ambulance could take twice that just getting to their house- and that would be _after_ Gold hobbled back inside for the phone- but a panicked father had no need for things such as speed limits or traffic lights, paid no attention to honking horns or people yelling crude words out their windows.

Bae cried the entire way.

They got there in five minutes.

Bae's tears served a purpose other than tearing away his father's sanity piece by piece. The nurse heard them from the parking lot, took one look at the leg, and immediately whisked them past the info desk and into a room where Bae continued to howl, tears splashing onto his cheeks. "It hurts, Papa," he cried, clutching his father's hand.

Gold's heart twisted.

"I know, I know, son. But they're going to make it all better," he promised, stroking the small hand in his. They'd better make it better. His son was in pain, was crying, and he was completely and utterly useless.

"That's right," a new voice assured from the doorway. A young woman strolled in, clad in mint green scrubs, messy curls scooped up in a ponytail. "We're going to make it all better as soon as we know what's wrong."

What's wrong? His son had broken his sodding leg, that's what was wrong. It was obvious, even to him. Gold eyed the nurse- she didn't look old enough to be finished with college, surely she was an intern or something- but she barely spared him a glance, focusing instead on the sobbing child before her. Her eyes were kind and soft. She was entirely too calm.

"What's your name?" she cooed, fussing with the I.V.

"B-Baelfire. My leg hurts."

"I know it does. My name is Belle, and I'm going to take care of you, okay?" Bae whimpered, looking at Gold, but he was calming, his sobs quieting, and Gold felt his pulse slow from vibrate to a slight hum.

"O-okay."

Belle bustled about the room, quickly giving Bae painkillers and a sucker to distract him, Gold some paperwork, and then they were off, heading down the hallway at a brisk trot, Belle pushing bed Bae was propped up in. Gold kept up as best he could, juggling the clipboard with the papers, his cane, and his son's hand. Though he had trouble holding on to everything he knew they could go faster, surely.

"Have you ever had an x-ray before, Baelfire?" Belle asked, wheeling him into a large room with an intimidating looking machine at the center. A walled off section with a window waited in the corner, a stern looking woman sitting behind it. She glanced up, nodded at Belle, her mouth thin and unsmiling.

Bae shrank back against the pillow. "No," he said in a small voice. "Papa I don't like that machine. It's big 'n scary."

"It's going to be alright Bae," Gold promised, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "They're just going to look at your leg so they can see how to fix it." He'd seen several x-ray machines in his lifetime. This was familiar and made his leg throb, as if he needed to be reminded why he knew what would come next.

"Don't touch it!" Bae said quickly, whipping around to face Belle. "It hurts!" Small hands grabbed Gold's shirt, tugging frantically. "Papa don't let them!"

Gold was torn, tried to calm Bae's monsters-gonna-get-me panic. Belle needed to do her job to help Bae, but Bae was terrified, clinging to him for dear life. He couldn't promise his boy that they wouldn't touch him- they might have to, and it would hurt them both.

"Baelfire, do you know what that machine does?" Belle asked quietly, gently rubbing Bae's back.

Bae shook his head mutely, still curled into his father. Papa wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.

"It takes a picture of your bones," Belle said, pointing. "It can see right through you, and then it takes a picture of what it sees!"

Bae considered the nurse carefully. "Like Superman?" he asked.

"Exactly like Superman." Belle leaned down to whisper. "He helped us build it," she said with a wink. "Is that alright? Can I take your picture?"

Bae considered and Gold held his breath, but then his brave boy nodded and released his father.

"Excellent. When we're done I'll even let you see the pictures. This might hurt, but I will be as careful as possible," Belle promised, her voice light and cheery, and something told Gold she was speaking to both of them.

It took entirely too long, Bae whimpering and clinging to him (and to Belle, who crouched beside him and took his hand too, smiling and telling knock knock jokes until Bae giggled), but it couldn't have been longer than an hour before they were all back in a room, a fresh cast wrapped around Bae's leg ("Superman blue" had been requested, and Belle had personally hunted for the color).

He'd broken his tibia, just a crack, a bit more than a greenstick fracture. It was enough to need a cast and crutches, and later a walking boot.

Gold was cutting down that damn tree as soon as he got home, with an axe if he had to.

"You're nice," Bae declared suddenly, sucking happily on his third grape flavored lollipop. He'd be up all night, hyped up on sugar, but Gold really didn't care at the moment. "I like you."

"Why thank you," Belle said, sounding genuinely touched. "I like you too." She grinned at the pair of them, eyes sparkling. "Can I borrow your father for a few minutes? We'll be right outside."

Over his fear of the big machines (they were okay if Superman had helped), eyes glued to the cartoon playing on the tv in the corner, Bae gave a very absent "M'kay".

Gold shuffled to his feet, setting the yet-to-be-filled-out paperwork on the chair. He left the door open enough to see Bae if he turned his head and smiled at the sight of his son watching tv like it was any other day. Minus the cast, it could have been, but there _was_ a cast, the air smelled like disinfectant, and a nurse was a nurse no matter how pretty she was.

"How are you doing?"

Gold sagged against the wall, the tension of the past hour melting to leave him feeling tired and very old. "I feel like the worst father in the world," he admitted. "I've been meaning to get that tree cut down for weeks, but I kept putting it off and now-"

Belle shook her head, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known this was going to happen."

"I feared it might."

"I'm afraid I'll get hit by a car one day while I'm walking to work, but that doesn't stop me from walking." She gave him a gentle shake and a small smile when he looked at her. "Parents always fear for their children, but accidents are accidents, and they do happen. The best thing you can do, for the both of you, is to make sure he's comfortable."

"And cut down the tree," Gold muttered.

That got a laugh out her, and Gold was startled by the sound, surprised even more by the laugh that wanted to escape him.

"He'll be here for a few more hours yet, but I'll come check on him before you go." And then she smiled again, a beautiful, natural smile that made him smile back.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "He was so afraid at first."

"It's a bit scary, all the machines and white walls and people running around with serious faces." She peered around him, smiled wide. "He seems to be alright though."

She didn't tell him it was part of the job (and he wouldn't have believed her if she'd tried to convince him that's all it was- something told him she actually cared about each and every patient). She nodded when he thanked her again, gave him a hug to calm him that only made his heart rate increase, and snuck Bae another lollipop before dashing out.

"Papa?" Bae asked sleepily.

Gold ran his hand over Bae's unruly hair, fluffed it up to a truly impressive height. "Hm?"

"D'you think Belle's a superhero?"

"A superhero?"

Bae nodded, eyes sliding shut. "She knows Superman."

Gold smiled, picturing Belle with a cape pinned to her scrubs, a mask framing those beautiful, compassionate blue eyes, flying around the halls and saving lives.

"Yes. I think she's a superhero."

Bae grinned. "Me too," he whispered.

His child slept, unbothered by pain, dreaming, he hoped, of bright red capes and bullet proof men. And maybe a curly haired nurse with a dazzling smile, who could calm children with just a few words, a truly impressive power.

And Gold decided that, yes, Belle was definitely a superhero.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** About the whole "no set updating schedule thing" I_ AM_ GOING TO UPDATE THIS STORY YOU GUYS. Just not on a once a week schedule like I usually do. I've been off work due to an injury, but I have to head back now, and I'm going to be swamped. So while I'm updating _now_ as per usual, the next chapter could take seven days, or it could take ten, or even fourteen. I WAS JUST WARNING YOU THAT I MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT BE LATE UPDATING. I would _never_ post something I had no intention of finishing. That's just mean.

* * *

Gold really wasn't sure what he was doing at the Nolan's family get-together dinner. He wasn't a Nolan and he sure as hell wasn't family, but David was convinced he'd needed to be there and had personally drove all the way across Boston to make sure he got the invitation. David was a nice guy, but the word no meant nothing to him. And he fought dirty.

He was too clever for his own good, bending to extend the invitation to Bae before Gold could come up with a passable excuse, and the boy had lit up and begged his papa to go and stay up past his bed time just this once.

So the Golds went to dinner.

Gold was promptly ambushed by a blonde cannon ball once the door was opened.

"Uncle Richard! Uncle Richard!"

He staggered under the unexpected weight of the four year old at his hip, but being the father of a five year old himself had given him reflexes that rivaled that of his days in the army, some twenty five years ago, and he managed not to fall and take Emma with him.

"Hello, Emma," he said, carefully placing a hand at her back to steady the wobbling child. She was attached to his right hip, more pressure put on his bad leg, but she was clutching him and looking up like she was happy to see him, all curls and big greenish blue eyes. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd graduated from "Mr. Gold" to "Uncle Richard", but he didn't correct her.

Bae wormed his way under his other arm, head across Gold's stomach to glare at his former preschool classmate.

"He's not your uncle," he said, clutching his father possessively.

Emma's face scrunched up, forehead crinkling as her mouth turned down. "Yes he is," she insisted. "I can call him uncle if I want to."

"But he's not-"

Gold laid a calming hand on his son's head, fluffing up his hair. "Now, Bae, it's alright. She can call me that if she likes."

Emma stuck her tongue out, wiggling her head in triumph.

"Emma Penelope Nolan you get that tongue back in your mouth this instant."

Gold smiled, relaxing in the presence of another adult. Relaxing even more when Mary Margaret Nolan, the mother of the pouting girl hanging off him, came down the stairs, sporting short black hair. The last time he'd seen her it had been long and curly. Had he been gone that long?

"But Mama, he said Uncle Richard isn't my uncle, but you said I could call him that if he said it was okay, and he _did_ say Mama, he really did!"

Mary Margaret raised her brows. "You know, technically Bae's right."

Bae stuck his tongue out, quickly sucking it back in with his father gave him A Look. "Ha!"

"Bae-"

Emma whirled, face red, mouth puckered in displeasure. "Meanie! I don't like you!"

"Emma!"

Emma crossed her arms, stomping her small foot. She faced her mother with a pout, her lower lip trembling suspiciously. "Why did _he_ have to come? He's always mean and ruins everything!" She bolted from the hallway, brushing past Mary Margaret and tearing up the stairs.

"I'm not coming down until Bae is done being stupid!" she shouted. A moment later, a door slammed.

Mary Margaret rubbed her forehead. "Hi Richard," she greeted wearily. "David's in the living room if you want to head that way. We're still waiting on a few more guest. And I have to remind my daughter about something called manners."

Bae navigated his way between the two adults, happy that no other children were around to try and claim _his_ papa as their relative. "Manners are boring," he declared. "They make you talk to people you don't like."

Gold had the beginnings of a headache and it was barely seven o'clock.

"Watch the step Bae-"

"I _got it_, Papa," Bae muttered, using his crutches to lift himself up the small half stair that separated the living room and the hallway.

Mary Margaret exchanged a look of parental understanding with Gold- a subtle mix of annoyance, exasperation, and absolute fondness for the little terrors they loved more than life itself.

"Two weeks on the crutches and he's already attempting to do stunts on them," Gold said. "Yesterday I caught him trying to go up the slide by using the crutches as a brace."

Mary Margaret winced. "Emma's in a diving phase. She jumps off everything, even if no one's there to catch her. I thought David was going to have a heart attack when she jumped off the back porch and landed in the rosebush."

He'd been wondering about the multitude of neon bright band-aids littering Emma's hands and face.

"It's not too late to ship them off to boarding school in a far away land," Gold said, half meaning it.

Something landed heavily on the floor upstairs. Mary Margaret spun on her heel to face it, already bounding up the stairs.

"Mama!" Emma hollered, sounding impatiently annoyed.

"I've considered it."

* * *

"-then she said _Superman_ had helped them build it, and it was so cool, you should see it, it took a picture of my _bones_."

David grinned down at Bae, seated comfortably between him and Gold. "Sounds awesome," he said. "But you're done climbing trees for a while, right?"

Bae nodded, arranging his army men on the footstool so they could shoot David's shoes. "Yeah. Papa cut the tree down. He said a lot of bad words."

Amused, David glanced at Gold, who smirked. "It had an overdue date with an axe."

"And then the chainsaw," Bae added. "And he stomped on the branches a bunch."

David barked out a laugh. Gold held up his hands. "I was prejudiced against the weak branches, what can I say." He reached over and nudged a falling soldier back to safe ground. "I heard Emma had an adventure of her own, but with a rosebush?"

His fellow father groaned, flopping backwards onto the couch cushions.

"That girl is _trying_ to make me go gray."

Gold snorted, pointing to his own head. "What, you thought I started out looking like this?" He flipped his hair theatrically, plucking a strand out to admire. "I earned all of these gray streaks, thank you very much."

"I have nothing against your lovely head of hair, but I'd rather go gray later."

"When your daughter starts bringing home boys rather than diving into thorns?"

David went pale. "Don't even joke."

Gold thought about biting his tongue, decided to needle instead. "You've got, what, thirteen years before she comes home with a ring on her finger? Don't worry, you'll be a fine grandfather."

David worked up an impressive glare, holding up an army man threateningly. He closed one eye and aimed. "Don't make me throw this at you."

"Ah, you usually shoot someone with a gun."

"What do you think this would shoot- a splinter?"

Emma stomped into the room, clearly unhappy. She headed straight for Bae, plopping inelegantly down beside him. Mary Margaret stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Emma mimicked her, but deflated quickly and turned to Bae with exaggerated reluctance.

"I'm sorry for calling you a meanie," she sighed.

"And?" her mother prompted.

"And you don't ruin everything," she added, shoulders slumping.

Bae turned to say something, but caught Gold's eye and thought better of it. "Wanna play army men?" he asked instead, holding out a plastic cannon.

Emma considered it. "'Kay," she chirped, grabbing the cannon. "Bang!"

Mary Margaret raised her hands in triumph. "Ah... peace!"

"Punctuated by cannon fire," her husband pointed out.

She pointed threateningly at David. "Don't ruin this for me, mister. I'll turn those cannons on you."

"Surrender now," Gold hissed.

"I'll get it!" Emma announced, rushing to the door before the bell finished chiming. "It's Auntie Ruby hi Auntie Ruby!"

Gold watched as a tall, slim brunette filled the doorway, laughing and swinging Emma around. She was in yoga pants, her hair wrapped in a messy bun, and had what looked like a gym bag with her.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, setting Emma down. "Auditions were murder."

An actor, Gold guessed, or a dancer of some kind. She was pretty enough, and being that slim meant she watched her weight on purpose or had the kind of metabolism teenagers everywhere would kill for. Maybe an extra at the theatre? She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. She had the willowy grace of a dancer, the light steps of someone who was active a lot. A ballerina perhaps, if she hadn't been so tall.

And then someone else stepped inside and Gold forgot all about Ruby.

"_Belle!_" Emma shrieked, diving for the newcomer.

Belle laughed, catching midair four year old with expert arms, using the momentum to swing them around and flip the child upside down. Emma giggled and planted her hands on the floor, allowing Belle to wheelbarrow her inside to Mary Margaret could close the door.

"Emma, how many times to I have to tell you to let people inside before you attack them?"

"Daddy look I'm a wheelbarrow!" Emma giggled.

"Wheelbarrows sleep in the shed," David told her. "Wheel her outside, Belle, and lock the door."

"No, I sleep upstairs! I'm a little girl!"

"I thought you were a wheelbarrow," Belle gasped. "Why are you upside down then?"

Emma kicked her feet. "'cause you flipped me over!"

Belle laughed and glanced up.

And there were those big blue eyes, looking right at him again.

Bae dropped his army men, the ranks scattering on the floor. He pointed at Belle, mouth open. "It's the superhero nurse!" he yelled.

Glad for an excuse to look away, Gold nudged his son gently with his elbow. "Bae, manners."

"No pointing," Emma recited to the floor, wiggling in Belle's hold to do a handstand. "It's rude, right Mama?"

Mary Margaret blinked, eyes shooting between Bae, Gold, and Belle. "Right. Well dinner's in five minutes."

Emma kicked her feet, flopping onto the floor when Belle let go. "I wanna help! Can I mash the potatoes?" She popped back up to her feet and ran after her mother. "I wanna do it!"

David gave Ruby a brief hug, slinging one arm casually across her shoulders. "I think you three know each other, right Bae?"

Bae was halfway across the room by the time Gold got his feet under him and his cane in his hand. "Ohmygosh you know Uncle David and Mary Margaret and you're here, are you really a superhero 'cus you know Superman and you had that machine, and look my cast is still blue like his suit and maybe I can get red next time-"

Gold clamped a hand down on Bae's shoulder. "Breathe son."

Bae took a deep breath. "_Papa_," he stage whispered. "It's _her_."

Belle burst into giggles. "Hello, Baelfire," she said breathlessly, eyes twinkling. "How are you?"

"This," the child announced, "is _so. Cool._"

Gold glanced at David, who looked away quickly (and who was also smirking).

"Dinner's ready!" Emma exclaimed. "I made mashed potatoes!"

Ruby laughed. "Let's go before she drags us to the table," she said, looping her arm through David's. "What are we having?" she asked.

"Mashed._ Potatoes_," Emma said pointedly.

Superhero Nurse Belle turned to Gold. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Gold. Join me for some mashed potatoes? I hear they're quite good."

With Bae tugging on his hand and Belle smiling like that with her laughing blue eyes, Gold only had one answer.

"I'd love to."


	3. Chapter 3

Oh my Gold look an update!

* * *

Gold had meant to stay at the Nolan's long enough for Bae to get tired, use that as an excuse, and leave shortly after dinner. One, maybe two hours tops, and then David couldn't say he didn't come over enough for a while, and he'd be safe to hide in his shops and avoid them until Emma guilted him into coming over for her birthday.

He hadn't meant to stay well past dinner, chatting and laughing with the adults while Emma and Bae zoned out in front of the tv, inhaling ice cream and arguing about who was the better power ranger.

He especially hadn't meant to have a good time laughing and chatting with Belle. Or listening to her and Ruby, her roommate, and laughing- a deep, gut clenching laugh- as they updated everyone on their lives.

"Swear to god," Ruby said, trying to catch her breath long enough to talk, "the dude turns around, and he's dressed like some reject from the eighties, and goes 'wait, I'm _where_?' and I'm like 'dude, _please_ put on some shorts', cus, I mean, barely clothed people are nothing in the ballet world, don't get me wrong, but I swear I could tell what religion this guy was at a glance."

Mary Margaret doubled over the table, clutching her stomach. "Oh my god," she gasped.

David, his arm slung over his wife's chair, wiped a tear from his eye. "Only you would go up to a half naked guy and ask him if he was lost."

"He looked totally confused," Ruby defended. "And he _was_ lost!"

"And probably high," Belle added, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Ruby snorted.

"Curious, we have all kinds of security surrounding some places, and still you hear stories about people just wandering in," Gold mused aloud, sending Ruby into fits of laughter.

"You don't know the half of it," she promised him, reaching over Belle to nudge him. "Some of the people who get on that stage make me wonder what happened to the public school system."

"Hey now!" Mary Margaret straightened. "Some of us public school teachers work very hard to give our students the best education we can provide them."

"Pity so few of them take it," Gold said airily.

Mary Margaret looked ready to protest, but she sighed and reached for her wine glass. "I would argue, but today I had someone in my AP English class ask me what a noun was."

Belle blinked at her. "Your AP classes are Boston University," she said in disbelief.

Mary Margaret nodded. "Yeah..."

"Oh my god, how did that person even make it to college?" Ruby demanded, reaching for another roll. Of all the people at the table, she'd eaten the most, and Gold had to wonder where she put it all.

"Probably off Daddy's money," David snickered, swiping the last roll before Ruby could get that one too.

"I wanted that," she said.

"You've already had five!"

"I," Ruby sniffed, "danced for six hours straight today, _and_ I landed the roll of The Big Bad Wolf. I'm allowed to indulge."

Belle whipped around in her chair, the ends of her hair brushing Gold's arm. He caught a faint whiff of vanilla and antiseptic, the scent dying when she stilled.

"You got the part? You didn't tell me that!"

Ruby's grin was wide, her whole face glowing with delight. "I got the call just before we got here," she admitted. "I thought I'd tell everyone at the same time."

"Ruby, that's amazing!"

Belle nearly knocked them off their chairs with her hug. "I'm so happy for you!" she squealed. "You worked so hard for this!"

Ruby laughed, holding out her glass for David to refill. "I'm not done working yet," she laughed. "Think you can put up with me dancing until two in the morning for a couple more months?"

"Two am?" Gold had to ask. "Really?"

"Wolves tend to be active at night."

"You are so lucky I'm usually dead tired after my shifts and just pass right out, otherwise you'd have to find some other place to live."

But Belle smiled, happy for her friend, and the joy was genuine. She was a bubbly person, all smiles and laughter, and Gold was sucked right in. He'd been at several of the Nolan bashes, including David's surprise promotion party, but he'd never stayed long, and when he had, he hadn't had much fun. He'd skirted around the edge of the party, watching Bae laugh and play with the other children, content to lurk in the background.

He'd known the Nolans before they were married, but they'd been his wife's friends more than his. After the divorce, Gold had been prepared to sever all ties. He'd braced himself to never hold Emma, who'd been a gummy baby at the time (and for whom he had a soft spot for that he never admitted to anyone) again.

But David hadn't allowed it. He'd stopped by the house or the shop to check on Gold, popping out of his squad car and marching on inside like he had every right to be there. He dragged Gold outside, or to the bar, or over to his place for dinner. Mary Margaret had been welcoming, always happy to see him, and even happier to see Bae.

They'd stuck by him when it had gotten bad, had reeled him in when he'd nearly lost himself, and he was forever grateful. Sometimes he wondered if they knew he was responsible for their mortgage being mysteriously paid off several years prior, but they never said anything other than a casual joke about the paperwork most likely being misplaced and they were probably actually several grand in the hole.

They had to at least suspect, but Gold never brought it up and they never asked, and so it was left alone.

The Nolans, as odd as it was to him, were his friends, and it was odd because he didn't have many of those. They succeeded in bringing him over more often than not, but they also failed at keeping him there longer than an hour or two. Bae having fun (even while arguing with Emma, which he did frequently and loudly) meant the visits would lean into two hours, or occasionally bleed into three, but Gold rarely lingered.

And he never stayed for a glass of wine and a chat.

"-minds me about a man that came into the ER yesterday with a fishhook in his... ah, yup, David knows where I'm going with this."

David sputtered into his wine, looking equal parts amused and horrified. "You're... You're kidding, right?"

Belle shook her head, mouth turned down dramatically as she fought her smile. Ruby had already heard the story and was howling in her chair, slapping her thighs in mirth.

"How-" Gold stopped himself. "No, I don't want to know."

Belle laughed, turning to him. "I didn't either," she said, one hand on his shoulder to keep herself upright. "But he kept trying to make excuses- he'd been drinking, it was windy, they had been messing around- and his friend just blurts out that his girlfriend had gotten mad at him and had amazing aim."

David and Gold winced. The girls erupted in laughter, doubling over, wiping tears, and leaning on whoever was steady. Mary Margaret was nearly in David's lap, Ruby braced herself on the table, and Belle clutched Gold's arm, patting it sympathetically.

"Daddy...?"

A bleary-eyed Emma stood in the doorway, yawning and clutching her blanket. The adults contained themselves when she padded over to David, snorting and giggling quietly.

"Hey honey." David stood and scooped up his daughter. "Sleepy?"

"No." Emma rubbed her eye, nuzzling her face into her father's shoulder. "Bae fell asleep on the couch."

Startled, Gold glanced at his watch. "No wonder," he said in awe. "He's usually in bed by eight and it's almost eleven."

"Oh no, is it really?" Belle surged to her feet, dashing out of the room so quickly she nearly tripped over the rug. "I'm going to miss my bus home." She skidded around the corner, paused to kiss Emma's head and hug David. "Ruby you're staying the night, right?" she asked, accepting the covered dish Mary Margaret passed her.

"Yup. I have babysitting duty tomorrow." Ruby winked at Emma, half asleep in David's arms.

"Okay, I've got to run. Literally." She patted Gold's shoulder. "It was nice seeing you again, and tell Bae I said goodbye and I'll see him when it's time to get his cast off. Bye, it was nice seeing everyone, bye Gold, you should come more often!"

"Be careful!" Mary Margaret called. The door closed loudly behind Belle, cutting off her reply. Gold could see her dashing across the Nolan's law, a streak of white blurring past the windows before disappearing into the darkness.

"She's going to trip on the sidewalk or something if she's not careful," Ruby said, peering out the window.

"I'll swing by the bus stop in a bit," David said. "If she's still there I'll take her home." He turned to Mary Margaret. "Our terror is sleeping."

"Put the terror to bed then, and let her chase monsters in her dreams."

Gold hobbled into the living room to check on his own terror and smiled fondly at the sight of Bae sleeping open mouthed on the couch. There were fewer and fewer moments like this, simple innocence being outgrown quickly. Gold wanted to savor them while he could. Soon Bae would be grown, too big to carry out to the car (which was difficult now due to his cast)- and that time would be up faster than he would like not just because of growth spurts, but because his leg could only handle so much.

Gold let the radio play quietly, background noise as he began the drive home. He'd had fun tonight, lingering and laughing instead of leaving as soon as the dishes had been cleared. It had been the first time in a long time that he hadn't left early. Bae snored and shifted, and Gold was startled to realize that he'd actually stayed late- very late.

But that was normal, a man out with his friends on the weekend, letting his son play with a classmate past bedtime. His former therapist would be proud (a waste of money that had been, in Gold's opinion, but needed for the custody battle, and later to vent. He still saw Archie Hopper on occasion, but that was normal nowadays too, and it kept the courts happy).

He spotted her out of the corner of his eye, bouncing from foot to foot, shivering in the late night wind. She craned her head in both directions, hoping, he knew, to catch sight of the long gone bus.

He knew he didn't have to, didn't know he was going to stop until he'd rolled down the window and poked his head out.

"Belle?"

She turned, hugging her arms. "Hi."

"Hey. Ah, I don't think the buses are running," he said, and immediately wanted to smack himself. Yes, she could probably see that the buses were done for the night. She was standing in a bus stop. She was aware you dolt.

"I know," she groaned, rubbing her free hand over her arm. "Argh, I'll have to walk back and ask David for a lift."

Walk back two blocks, in the cold, at eleven at night, in Boston? Gold couldn't, in good conscious, let her do that.

"Where are you headed?" he asked. He could offer her a lift at least, and if he couldn't get her home, he take her back to the Nolans and deposit her safely at their door.

"Home," Belle said, bending to see him through the window. "Down on Story Lane, way over on the other side of town."

Gold leaned over the empty passenger seat and reached for the door lock. "I'm over on Brooke Street. We're practically neighbors. Hop in." He gave her a quick grin, nothing more than a twitch of his lips. "I promise I'm not a serial killer."

Belle laughed, the sound echoing through the empty lawns. She bit her lip, glanced up one last time, but slid in, holding her fingers to the heating vent gratefully. "This is one of those stories that will end with 'and she was never seen again'," she predicted. "I'll be a warning story to young girls everywhere. Don't get in a car with a person you know and his young child or you'll wind up chained up in a barn in Nebraska. Dun dun dun."

Gold threw his head back- as he had several times that evening- and laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

The customer was not always right, and Gold was under the impression that whoever had deemed that rule true should be shot. The customer might think they were right, and proving them wrong could be disastrous, as well as cost a sale, and sometimes even a job.

Fortunately, Gold was well off enough to cut his losses when customers got out of hand. He'd been known to shove people out the door with his cane- only when the situation called for it of course. He didn't make a habit of throwing people out willy-nilly. Bae's college fund could use a bit more cushioning, so for the most part he tried to bear it. One never knew if one's son would wind up attending Harvard or Yale after all.

"This color is _awful_."

But there was grinning and bearing it and then there was subjecting yourself to unnecessary torture for absolutely no reason.

Gold was giving the woman five more minutes. If his headache bloomed into a migraine by then, she was getting kicked out, sale or no sale.

The customer had introduced herself as _Mrs._ Ellicott if you please, but pay no attention to the ring, the husband is gone far too often, and she was to get exactly what she wanted, and get it now. It wouldn't have been a problem if Mrs. Ellicott had any idea what she actually wanted. Gold could have handed it off, rang her up, and been done with it. Instead, Mrs. Ellicott, if you please, had a problem with the fit of one dress, the straps of that one, the shape of this one, and the color of the one she was currently wearing.

Actually, the problem was Mrs. Ellicott was forty, and she wanted a dress that made her look twenty-one again, and no amount of fabric and clever seams was going to make that dream come true.

That did not stop Mrs. Ellicott from "browsing" for three hours before carting an enormous pile of dresses into the fitting room.

Gold had seen way more of Mrs. Ellicott than he'd ever wanted to as she paraded around the store in her undergarments, snatching dresses off the hangers that were about two sizes too small. Gold worried about split seams and torn fabric as she flounced about in front of the mirror.

And then worried about his mental health when she stripped down in front of him to try on more.

"It's a good fit," he offered tightly, because it was. It was three sizes above the size she said she'd needed, but sizes were just numbers. It was the fit that counted.

"Ugh, this color though. So orange. I feel like I'm walking around in a neon sign that's been puked on. Don't you have anything shorter? The full skirt is _way_ too much. And the neckline, heavens, it's like my girls aren't even there!" Mrs. Ellicott smashed her boobs together, arranging them just so.

"Less is more."

Mrs. Ellicott snapped her fingers. "Yes, exactly! Less fabric, more me, that's exactly what this dress needs."

He'd actually been talking about less her and more fabric, but whatever got her out of his hair.

"I do tailor," Gold reluctantly reminded her. He'd spent a week making that dress, but if Mrs. Ellicott wanted it, she'd get it, and she wouldn't even glance at the price tag (which might have a figure or two added on to it for the mess she'd left in the fitting rooms). "I can have it ready by Monday."

"Oh, no, no, that just _won't_ do. I'm throwing a party tomorrow, and I absolutely _need_ a dress."

"You planned a party and didn't get a dress until the day before? What kind of half brained decison was that?"

Of course she didn't get a dress until now. Mrs. Ellicott, if you please, didn't strike him as the type of person to plan things out. Gold sighed and resigned himself to do the most unsavory of necessities. If she needed a dress, she needed a dress, and Bae would get that new bike for his birthday. And maybe Papa would indulge in some old Scotch.

Kneeling was better than crouching, though a bit awkward, but Gold managed. Scissors in hand, pins in his mouth, and measuring tape around his neck, he snipped the bottom layer off the skirt, leaving the dress falling around Mrs. Ellicott's too tan knees.

"There. I'm not making it any shorter." God, please don't ask to have it any shorter.

Luck seemed to be on his side. Mrs. Ellicott twirled and cooed over the new length, inching the hem higher with every movement. "I'll take it," she decided. "And those silver pumps on the mannequin. Are they a size six? They're just adorable, and they'd go perfectly. Oh, I do hope they're my size, otherwise I won't have a thing to put on my feet that would go with this color."

"Yes," Gold said shortly, gripping his cane tightly to stand. His ankle screamed at him as he hobbled to the counter, but he ignored it. Just one more customer, he promised himself, then he would close. Hours be dammed.

"Wrap them up to go then! I'll take them too." Mrs. Ellicott twirled again, admiring herself in the three way mirror.

The bell jingled merrily. Gold buried his head in his hands for a minute, let himself breathe. He didn't think he could handle another customer at the moment, not so close to closing if Mrs. Ellicott was still around (going on four hours now). Well, it was his shop. He could be rude if he wanted to.

"So this _is_ your shop," said a softly accented voice. "I thought I recognized the name when you told me the other night, but I wasn't sure."

Gold raised his head.

"Belle?"

Belle, clad in a shirt of his own design that he didn't remember selling recently, smiled and trailed her fingertips over the prom dresses on the sale rack. "These are amazing," she said, pulling out a yellow one. "You make these?"

"Design, make, and sell." He smirked at her flabbergasted look. "Cut out the middle man, more profits for me," he explained easily.

Belle put the dress back carefully. "Are you rich, Mr. Gold?" she asked playfully, leaning over the counter. "Because if you are, it insults our friendship that you haven't told me that yet. After you were kind enough not to kidnap me and keep me in your basement the other night, we should be open about these things."

"I don't have a basement." Gold wrapped Mrs. Ellicott's shoes in tissue paper, careful arranging them so the lid on the box would close. "Besides, you were worried about being chained up in a barn," he reminded her.

"Barns, basement." Belle waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. You didn't answer my question."

Gold couldn't stop the smile any longer. "Flat broke," he told her. "I live in the backroom, eating crumbs that fall out of my customer's purses. Occasionally I steal their clothes and sell them as my own."

Belle pursed her lips. "So broke you're wearing an Armani suit?" She nodded, eye twinkling. "I see. It must be very difficult for you."

Impressed, Gold eyed her. "How do you know it's Armani? I'm not wearing the jacket." He'd tossed it over the back of a chair sometime during the wedding rush and hadn't bothered to put it back on. Wearing a suit in Rumpled Lace felt ridiculous anyway- he was a tailor. He didn't need to wear anything other than sturdy shoes and his multi-pocketed apron.

"It was a guess," Belle admitted with a laugh, crossing to examine the skirt of a window mannequin. "Suits all look the same to me, but I know expensive when I see it."

Mrs. Ellicott appeared from the fitting room, thankfully fully clothed this time. She was dragging the dress behind her, letting the light colored fabric rub against the carpet. She eyed Belle with the kind of distaste a woman past her prime (if she ever had one) would eye someone so beautiful- jealous envy disguised as disgust. Ellicott sniffed at Belle's sturdy tennis shoes, white, thick soled, and cracked from constant use.

"Thank you ever so much for your help, Mr. Gold," she purred. She held on to her credit card when Gold reached for it, running her fingers around his wrist. "You should come to the party," she said, putting a little extra husk in her voice. "My husband's gone so much, and he won't be at the house again tomorrow. I'll need someone to keep me company."

Gold pried both the card and his hand from her talon length nails. "Your party guests will see to that, I'm sure." He rang her up quickly, all but shoving her purchases in the appropriate boxes, not feeling the least bit guilty for the extra four hundred dollars he'd tacked on.

Mrs. Ellicott pouted. "Oh, don't be so mean, Mr. Gold! Why, you're bound to be lonely, all by yourself in this big ol' shop." Overly-painted lips smiled (she had lipstick on her teeth). Gold nearly choked on her perfume when she leaned in, aptly displaying her wares. "We could help each other, you and I."

"Now I-"

"Excuse me, Mr. Gold?" Belle held up a white sundress printed with pink and blue color splashes. "May I try this on?"

Oh, Gold could just _kiss_ her right then and there.

Detaching himself from Mrs. Ellicott, Gold picked up his keys. "Of course," he assured her. "Let me unlock the fitting room for you, my dear. It's right this way."

Belle slipped her arm through his and let herself be lead, holding the dress aloft so it wouldn't drag on the floor.

"Christ. That woman is nothing but an overbearing, over painted, high strung, high maintenance harlot looking for her next fling," Gold muttered.

"She, ah, was coming on pretty strongly to you," Belle noted. "I was going to just slip out again, but you looked really uncomfortable." She batted her lashes at him. "Should I have left? I might have gotten in the way of true love."

Gold gave her a bland look that made her snort with laughter. "Uncomfortable. That's one word for it." The door popped open. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll hide back here until I know she's gone."

Belle giggled. "Women can be patient when hunting a man," she said, disappearing into the fitting room. "But stay. I mean, after all I might have questions about the dress. Oh, This material is _so soft_. What is it- silk?"

Gold leaned against the far wall, peering over his shoulder at Mrs. Ellicott, yapping away on her phone at the counter. She gestured wildly with her free hand, the diamonds adorning her fingers winking in the sunlight. Probably the effect she'd hoped for when she put them on, he thought with distaste. Having wealth was fine, but flaunting it and boasting about the paper you had in the bank always left a bad taste in his mouth.

"It is. Are you one of those customers then?" he asked. "Who asks about thread count and prices and stitches and fit before the dress is even tried on?"

The door opened, and Gold had to clench his teeth to keep his mouth closed.

Belle was a vision in white. The color didn't wash her out, as it often did to those who had fair skin. Instead, the white softened her. The pink was subtle, the blue little loud pops of color, and the dress draped in all the right places. Her eyes were impossibly blue against the fabric. She looked innocent, yet mature and fun at the same time. Gold was glad he'd made the straps pink as well, more color would suit her better, but nothing too bold.

A deep blue, he thought distantly. She needed to be in something entirely blue.

"I am in love with this," Belle declared, twirling in front of the mirror.

"It suits you," he managed to get out, stuffing his hand in his pocket. He leaned heavily on his cane to stop himself from touching. "And it's on sale."

"It wasn't on the sale rack." Belle checked the price tag. "Though if you're offering, I happily accept."

Mrs. Ellicott, tired of being ignored, slammed the door behind her. Belle turned at the sound, blinked at the suddenly empty shop.

Gold grinned at her. "Oh, I think we can work something out. Getting rid of annoying customers is an automatic twenty percent off coupon."

Belle laughed, taking another glance at herself. The dress suited her beautifully. And she'd gotten rid of Mrs. Ellicott by simply being more beautiful, inside and out. Gold was willing to give it to her for free if she really wanted it.

"I'm friends with the owner," she told him with a wink as he rang her up. "Any discounts for that?"

She was teasing him, smiling playfully, and Gold found himself smiling back. He wished he'd put the jacket back on, wished he'd added the waistcoat instead of just the tie. Standing before her in his plain white (untucked, haphazardly buttoned) shirt and dark pants, tie loose around his neck, felt intimate somehow. Fully armored, he was the owner of the shop, the boss, the manager, and the salesman all at once.

In a shirt and pants, leaning awkwardly on his cane, he was at a disadvantage to an intelligent, simply stunning woman buying a dress.

"For my son's superhero? Absolutely. Thirty percent off the wholesale price. And it comes with a dinner voucher," he added.

"Are you asking me out, Mr. Gold?"

Was he?

Did he want to?

Abruptly, Gold realized he'd been _flirting_, of all things. With Belle, who was twenty-six and barely knew him. Who'd set his son's leg, who'd sat beside him at dinner with the Nolan's, who'd kept him laughing the entire drive back to their side of town. Who, amazingly, seemed to be flirting back with him.

"Only if you accept," he said after a moment's pause that threatened to turn awkward. "If not, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Belle hummed, biting her lip. "Okay," she said. "Friday?"

Gold fumbled with and nearly dropped the dress box. "Really?"

"Absolutely. I have a new dress and absolutely no place to wear it, and that's a shame."

Gold began to smile. "An absolute crime. Friday," he agreed. "But only if you stop calling me Mr. Gold."

"Then I'll see you Friday, Richard." Belle smiled wide, bottom lip between her teeth. "I'll be the one in the pretty dress." She wrote her number on the receipt, handed it to him with a flourish and the never dimming grin. "Call me."

Gold locked the door behind her, then set off with a grim sort of purpose to gather Mrs. Ellicott's rejects off the floor.

And smiled all the way home.


	5. Chapter 5

What the hell had he been thinking?

Gold folded Bae's clothes into his backpack, carefully setting the pajamas on top of the books and toys and video games (were it up to Bae, he'd go to his mother's with nothing but toys and games and no clothes at all). He had to wrestle with the zipper, but he won in the end, the Spiderman fabric firmly shut.

Gold sat back, running his hand through his hair.

He had a date that night.

A date with an absolutely beautiful woman. An absolutely beautiful, amazing, stunning, _twenty-six _year old woman.

What in the utter hell had he been _thinking_?

He couldn't do this. He shouldn't do this. Richard Gold was forty-one, a single father, lame, and made clothes because he liked to sew. He had a both a temper and a crippling awareness of the fact that he wasn't good enough for anyone, and he was supposed to charm the gorgeous, wonderful, entirely-out-of-his-league Belle French?

Belle French, a nurse who had already met one large goal in life- a career, not just a job- who loved books, whose text messages made him smile (before her he'd never bothered texting more than a simple message, now he was adept at working the tiny keys on his tiny and entirely too expensive phone), who asked about Bae, about him, about his day.

He hadn't been thinking. That had been the problem. Not at all.

Gold hadn't realized he'd been flirting with her in the shop, and by the time he had, he'd been so over his head he'd been helpless to do anything other go along with it. He was too old to date. He would say he was past his prime, but he'd never even had a prime, something his ex-wife loved to point out.

Speaking of Milah.

"Papa is Mama here yet?"

Gold made himself smile calmly at his son. "Not yet," he said, standing and scooping up the boy. A practiced move, easy even with his cane and Bae's cast. Bae nuzzled his father's shoulder, settled comfortably against his left hip, arms around his neck. "I'm sure she's on her way. Remember what I told you about the traffic?"

Bae nodded, fiddling with the top button on Gold's shirt, popping it open easily and leaving it hanging. "Sometimes there are so many cars that they can't move and it makes people late. And they say bad words when they're late."

Gold hadn't added that last bit, but it was true enough. He smiled, kissing Bae's forehead. "That's right. I bet Mama left late and her car got stuck."

He hoped.

When Milah had served him the divorce papers, he'd held no illusions about the upcoming custody battle. Nine times out of ten the courts sided with the mothers, and sometimes that was even the right decision. After all, who would know better about their child than the mother?

Milah was a semi-successful artist, no marks on her record more serious than a few parking tickets, and one bar fight back in her twenties. She had the American Dream family, mother, father, college education, and she'd wanted Bae to live with her and her new boyfriend (infidelity was a minor mark on a stressed out woman whose husband was never home).

Richard Gold was Scottish, illegally immigrated at first, smuggled into the country by his subsequently deported father. He left home when he was sixteen, joined the Army at seventeen, nearly had his foot blown off six months into his tour, squeaked by on a barely legal immigration loophole, used the Army's money to get his GED, his law degree, and had married the first woman who'd agreed to give him a chance. Gold's record was spotty at best- fist fights, shouting matches, disgruntled clients, court appearances, speeding tickets, domestic disputes during his marriage that were naturally his fault... he'd known he'd had a snowball's chance in hell of seeing Bae more than twice a month.

But Archie Hopper had made all the difference, and Gold would never forget that.

The good doctor had been their marriage counselor at first, then later Gold's shrink, and it had been his notes and testimony that while Gold had a temper, he was an excellent father, a kind and loving one, and Archie had stated that Gold had come a long way in just a year. At Doctor Hopper's insistance that Bae would be better off with both parents, specifically his father, the courts agreed to joint custody. The agreement was fair, and as long as Bae spent equal time with both his mother and father, Gold had no complaints. Milah still lived in Boston, and Bae could travel back and forth every other week without trouble. He might need his father, but he needed his mother too.

It worked beautifully until six months into the arrangement. Killian had surprised Milah with tickets to New York to see the opening of an art gallery of some kind. Could they switch weeks, just this once? Sure, absolutely. Bae hadn't minded staying with Papa another week, even though he'd had to stay with the babysitter a few days because Papa did have to work. But that was okay because he liked Ashley. She was pretty and let him watch Star Wars as long as he went to bed on time.

Milah had collected Bae the following week, all smiles and happy to see her son, and off they went, but not before Milah mentioned putting in some extra hours at her new studio, so she might have to drop Bae off on Friday night instead of Sunday. That was fine, too. Gold had taken the weekend off to do some work around the house, which would have been easier without Bae underfoot, but Miss Boyd was more than willing to have the three year old stay at her house down the road.

Milah had dropped Bae off early Thursday morning, rushing out as fast as she'd come.

It had happened gradually, slowly, but by the time Bae was four, Gold found himself back in court. And this time, Milah had been the one in trouble. Bae talked to Doctor Hopper, as per the court's orders, and it had been revealed that Mama had a babysitter of her own, and Bae rarely, if ever, saw his mother on his visits.

Two weeks of hearings and testifying later, Milah decided that her growing art career was interfering with her relationship with her son (though it seemed to him that it was the other way around), and Gold found himself with full custody of Bae. Knowing Bae would miss her, Gold set up visitation rights before signing anything. Milah would visit when she could, weekend visits set at least two weeks in advance, minimum two visits per month.

"He needs his mother," he'd told the courts, and it had been the first thing he and Milah had agreed on in a long time.

And now she was late again.

"Mama's car gets stuck a lot," Bae said, struggling to rebutton his father's shirt. Unbuttoning was easy, but his fingers weren't very good at getting the button back into the hole. "She should buy an airplane. Or a helicopter! She could fly over the stuck cars!"

Despite himself, Gold chuckled. "I don't think Mama knows how to fly a helicopter," he said, setting Bae down to fix his shirt himself.

"She could learn! It's like the video games!" Excited, Bae hopped up and down on his good leg. "An'- an'- an' maybe she could even shoot a rocket outta the front of the helicopter, an' she could blow up the school!"

Gold burst into laughter, bending to tickle his clever child. "Sounds to me like someone's been plotting."

Bae escaped his father's tickling fingers and hobbled back into the living room, plopping down on the couch. "If Mama blows up the school then I wouldn't have to go back, and I could see her more!"

"Ah, I see." Gold nodded, stroking his chin. He blinked, rubbing his hand over his neck. He needed to shave before Belle arrived, otherwise his stubble would get entirely out of hand.

Gold refused to grow a beard. He didn't want to look too much like his father, and he certainly did not want to look like the type of man who let his facial hair run wild to hide any wrinkles he'd collected over the years. He was the father of a very rambunctious five year old, ran two businesses, and had several law degrees. He'd earned the crows feet that had sprouted on his eyes, and he would not hide them.

"D'you think Mama would let me drive the helicopter?" Bae wanted to know, mashing buttons on his hand held game.

"I don't think you can fly anything until you're at least twenty-one, so you'd have to wait a few years."

"Awww." Bae pouted, eyes glued to the tiny screen in his hands.

Gold snorted, pulling his phone from his pocket. Surely Milah was about to call, saying she was on her way, or that she actually was stuck in Boston rush hour traffic.

He opened the newest message from Belle, relieved that she was running behind too. _Caught at work still :( Could we push dinner to eight? So sorry._

They'd planned to meet at six thirty. Bae should have been collected at five thirty, which would have given them both plenty of time to get ready and make their way to the newest semi-fancy restaurant downtown (and if Gold was showing off a bit, he admitted it. He didn't have much to offer Belle, but he could at least give her a good meal in a nice place, even if the night didn't go very well).

The clock in the hall chimed six times. Gold sighed, watching his son pass the time in a virtual world.

_Eight would be perfect_, he typed. _I shall see you then._

He would do this. He _would_. Tonight, Gold would go out with someone. He would talk, he would eat, and he would try his damndest to have a good time. It had been years since he'd done this, and it was high time he had one night to himself.

Six bled into six-thirty, then seven. Bae was busy fighting dragons, oblivious to the world, and Gold pulled out his phone once more. He wouldn't call Milah, because it wasn't his job to remind her. He shouldn't have to remind her. She should be eager to see their beautiful child, counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until it was time. She should arrive early, ready to have Bae to herself for as long as she possibly could. She should bring him home late, and hug him hard and promise to see him soon.

At seven fifteen, Gold made Bae macaroni and cheese, his absolute favorite, and dashed into the bathroom to hunt up his electric razor as the phone and the doorbell both did not ring. He changed his shirt, then his pants, then his shirt again, gathered and cleaned the dishes, took off his suit jacket, put it on again, and they still did not ring.

Bae was quiet, staring silently into his bowl of half eaten ice cream while his father tried three times to call his mama. Bae knew Mama didn't answer because Papa was pacing, and he only did that when something made him unhappy, and Mama made Papa unhappy a lot. Bae stirred his ice cream until his was half melted and it looked like soup (just the way he liked it). He slurped it down quickly, while Papa made one more phone call.

"Miss Boyd, I'm sorry to trouble you on such short notice..."

* * *

Belle dropped the hair dryer twice, nearly burned herself with the curling iron, and had to redo her make up three times before she looked decent enough to bolt into her bedroom.

Ruby watched her, poised En Pointe in the living room, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Someone's nervous," she sang, raising her arms above her head.

"Someone's late," Belle corrected. "Where are my heels? The white t-strap ones?" She stumbled into her room, pushing her hair out of her face. She really needed to get it cut, but she didn't have time. She never had time. And where in the world were her shoes? "Ruby!"

"In my closet by the door. I borrowed them to go to that dinner, remember?"

Belle crossed the apartment in three strides, yanking Ruby's bedroom door open. "Late, why am I always late?" Spying the shoes piled next to the five pairs of ballet slippers in varying states of wear and tear, Belle hurriedly slipped them on, hopping up and down to buckle the straps. "He's going to think I'm standing him up, I just know it. Oh, I feel terrible, he's waiting for me and I already had to push the time back as it is."

Ruby sighed heavily, dropping to stand flat footed. "Belle, chill out. He's not even here yet. It's only seven forty-five. You have time." She grabbed the other woman by the shoulders, giving her a small shake. "Hey. Breathe."

Belle took a breath. "Right. You're right." Her face crumpled. "I am nervous. He's such a nice man, and he's busy, I know he owns something like two shops, and he's got Bae too."

Ruby knew what was coming before Belle even said it. She could tell by the way blue eyes dropped to stare at the floor.

"What was I thinking? He's done so much with his life, he's got so much going on. I'm going to be so boring in comparison, I just know it." Belle snapped her gaze back up to meet Ruby's. "Why didn't you talk me out of this?" she demanded.

"Because you deserve this," Ruby told her sternly. "You've done nothing but work yourself to the bone for the past two years, and before that you studied, and before that you were convincing your dad to let you move out of the country after the thing with Gaston. You need some fun in your life." She arranged Belle's hair so that it fell softly over her shoulders to her waist. "I know Gold. He's nice enough once you get to know him, and if you like him, go for it. God knows you deserve it."

Belle wanted to protest, but at the same time, she didn't. Because Ruby was right. She made decent money at the hospital, she was supporting herself, paying her bills, working all those extra hours to afford the bigger apartment in the big city, and what would be the point of all that hard work if she didn't enjoy herself every once in a while?

Richard Gold was a handsome man with an adorable son, and a story that she would love to hear. He made her laugh and so far they'd kept up a steady stream of conversation via texting. Why not go out? Why not have a little fun?

Yes. Yes, she'd go. She was young, she was in a good place right now with her job and her friends and her father. So she would go out with Richard Gold, and she'd have a good meal, and laugh and _have fun_, because that's what people her age did- they went on dates.

Oh god.

"He knows this is a date, right?" Belle blurted suddenly. "I mean, surely he has to know that. That's what I thought, but what if-"

"Oh my god, Belle." Ruby smacked herself in the forehead. "Listen, I love you, but you have got to calm down."

"But what if-"

"Ah-ah!" Ruby pointed at her menacingly. "No buts. It's a date, trust me."

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

The knock was firm and rapid, the final rap fading in time with the clock announcing that it was eight o'clock sharp.

Ruby grinned. "Because I saw him pull up, and what kind of guy brings a girl flowers when it's not a date?" She grabbed Belle's purse, shoving her towards the door. "Now, you go, have a good time, and for god's sake, stay out late for once!"

She opened the door to reveal Gold on the stoop, clutching a small bouquet of daises, wearing a deep red tie, a sharp jacket, dark pants, and a small, almost timid smile. Belle flushed, stumbling forward when Ruby propelled her out the door.

"You kids have fun," she said. "I won't wait up."

Belle watched the door shut firmly, hearing the lock slide into place with a final click. Cheeks flaming, and surely the same shade of red as his tie, she turned to Richard, glancing shyly up at him through her lashes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey." He blinked down at the flowers in his hand, offering them to her after a moment. "Here. If you'll have them."

Charmed, and more delighted than she thought possible, Belle carefully took the blossoms, inhaling their subtle sent. "Why, thank you."

He smiled then, a wide, true smile that looked as relieved as she felt. Richard offered his arm, which Belle took without hesitation, her fingertips resting lightly against his wrist.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She let herself smile, big and bright, because this felt natural and right, she could do this, she really could. And she wanted to. So she would.

"Yes," she said, firmly dismissing any nagging doubts that whispered in the back of her mind. "Lead on, good sir."

It was high time she did something she wanted to do, with someone who seemed to enjoy her company. It was just dinner, just a meal, and though it was a very big step, it was a step nonetheless, and it was finally- finally- a step in the right direction.

Deliberately, Belle stayed by his side as they made their way down the steps, and out into the warm Boston night.


	6. Chapter 6

It was going to be a disaster. Gold could already see the story play out, the headlines splashing out one by one, announcing his failure(s) over and over in his head.

He knew how it would go. It had happened to him enough to recognize the signs before they could even park the car. Belle was chatting animatedly enough now about a book they'd both read, and the flowers were laying carefully in the back seat, next to Bae's booster, but it would happen soon. She already knew about and had met Bae, so that warning signal was quiet. Usually women backed rapidly away when a man came with baggage. Or they tried to overcompensate, focusing on Bae so much that he would be the one hurt when- because there was no if- it ended badly.

There would be fun and laughter and jokes at first, that Gold knew. Belle was lively enough to carry on a conversation completely without his input and still have him be included in some way. She was all smiles and bright eyes (and entirely too young and energetic for someone like him, he could almost hear the thoughts the valet had). He was well aware that he was out of his depth.

But she was nice, and sweet, and he could talk to her (they were both only children, both had immigrated to America young, both were away from their families while they lived the dream). Perhaps she would acknowledge the mistake early on and let him down easy. It never had to go any further than dinner, and they could both escape with their dignities intact. He would have to avoid the Nolans for a while, she seemed to be a permanent fixture in their lives, but he was prepared if it came down to that.

Belle smiled up at him, eyes sparkling. "I've read about this place," she said, her soft accent carrying across the parking lot as they waited in line. "The food is supposed to be fabulous."

Which is exactly why he'd picked it. This wouldn't amount to anything, but no one said he had to go down in flames in the process.

"I hope it's as good as everyone says," Gold said, idly wondering if the uppity bride in the shop earlier had been right to praise the dimly lit restaurant. The people leaving didn't look very happy.

"Me too. The ones leaving don't look pleased though." She glanced up at him. "A bad sign, you think?"

Gold blinked. "Perhaps they had poor service." Though a large fancy establishment such as Le Fleur could surely afford to be picky about their staff.

Belle nodded at the doorman, shrugging out of her coat. "You would think a place like this would have the best waitstaff around."

"And better lighting," he muttered, pausing to let his eyes adjust. There had been more light in the parking lot than there was inside. He could barely make out the white of the hostess's shirt in the dim lighting.

Belle stumbled beside him, offering an apology to the people at the table she'd run into. Biting back her laugh, she took Gold's offered arm, and together they staggered towards the far wall, carefully picking their way around people and tables that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"I can't see anything," Belle confessed in a whisper.

"I'm not sure where the hostess went," Gold admitted, glancing around. "All I see are vague shapes."

"Right this way," the hostess chirped entirely too loudly. Gold felt Belle jump at her sudden appearance, muffling his laugh with his hand. Belle nudged him.

"Hush."

"If you're glaring at me, I can't see it."

But he could hear her giggle, and it made him smile. "In that case, I'll tell you: I'm glaring at you."

They found their seats out of sheer dumb luck more than anything, groping blindly for the backs of the chairs and carefully easing themselves down into the seats. Gold eased his cane out a few feet, searching the area around them for anything he could trip over. The last thing he needed to do was fall flat on his face. In this light he'd probably be stepped on before anyone realized he was down there.

Not to mention it might embarrass Belle to have her date wind up sprawled on the floor of the Best New Restaurant In Town (that wasn't high on his list of places to recommend at the moment).

"Your waiter will be right with you," floated the hostess's voice.

Belle glanced over both sides of the table. "Thank you," she said, peering into the darkness. "...did she go?"

He had no idea. "Honestly, I can't tell." Why did restaurants always insist on feeding people in total darkness? It didn't add to the atmosphere, it added to the dry cleaning bills. At this rate, he would wind up with whatever he ordered all down his shirt, or all over the table.

"I think that's a candle," Belle said from somewhere. Was she really just in front of him? Christ, he couldn't even see her. "At least, I hope it's a candle. Without more light I know I'll spill something all over myself."

Gold moved the centerpiece, lifting the leaves- at least they felt like leaves- off the table to reveal a small flame flickering in a glass holder.

Belle beamed. "Now I can see you," she said happily.

Gold placed the leafy arrangement on the empty table behind them. "If you wanted to sneak off, you've missed your chance," he warned her.

"Actually, I was wondering when you'd realize I'm boring and take off, but I guess that comes later."

"Boring?" Gold couldn't fathom it. "You?"

Belle shrugged, the movement just barely visible in the candlelight. "I'm not very exciting. I work all the time, and when I don't work I read, which you could probably guess, considering I bored you for ten minutes already about _To Kill A Mockingbird_."

"Actually I like Harper Lee," he told her. "One of my favorites."

She grinned. "Mine too." Belle folded her hands, resting her chin on her fingers. "And you already know I'm an RN, which explains itself. You, on the other hand, have two businesses that I know of, the cutest little boy in existence, and David tells me you're also a lawyer."

Gold made a mental note to ask David exactly what he'd told Belle, after he made up his mind if he was going to kick or thank him for inviting Belle to that dinner in the first place.

"I'm guessing there's a question in there somewhere."

"There's quite a few, actually," Belle laughed. "But we'll start with an obvious one. What exactly do you do? Are you a tailor, a pawnbroker, or a lawyer?"

Gold accepted the water from the waiter, taking a sip. He waited for Belle's drink to be poured by the staff- he didn't trust himself not to spill the water all over the place.

"What if I say I'm all three?"

Belle hummed, considering that as she squinted at the menu. Gold glanced down, hoping the font would be visible (it wasn't).

"Then I'd have to ask what you could possibly want from a boring old nurse like me," Belle said. "You sound like you have the most fascinating life, or at least it sounds adventurous."

"It's not as exciting as you think, I assure you." Gold peered closer at the menu, trying to make out the wine section. Was that an L or an I? "The biggest adventure has got to be Bae. Never a dull moment with him around."

"I bet," Belle said warmly. "I'm around Emma enough to know what they can get into, they will, and what they can't, they'll still get into."

Truer words had never been spoken. Murphy's Law worked best with children, and it worked often, but Gold wouldn't trade Bae for the world.

Though it was going well now, Belle seemed to at least understand that children were precious, and his son was the most important thing to him. That could make things easier later on. Because things never went very well later on, and Gold would brace himself for it (because it would happen- it always did, and it was better to accept that now and be prepared than be caught completely off guard) when it came up later.

"I'm going to be honest," Belle said.

Or now. "All right."

"I can't see a _single thing_ on this menu."

It hadn't been what he was expecting, but exactly what he was thinking, and suddenly Gold was shaking with laughter, covering his mouth with his hand when it fell quiet around them. "Thank god," he managed. "I thought I was going blind."

"We might if we keep trying to read this," Belle said in a fit of giggles.

"Can I help you?" asked a voice by the table. Gold turned to it, trying to pinpoint the source, but he couldn't see anyone. Not a nametag, a face, a person, nothing. There just wasn't anything there.

"Well maybe if I could _see_..."

Across the table, Belle hid her face in the folds of the menu and laughed.

* * *

"You know," he said later by the Charles, "a big place like Le Fleur could surely afford to give people bigger servings. Especially with their prices."

Beside him, Belle munched on her BBQ flavor twists he'd gotten her at the gas station. She offered him the bag. "They definitely should invest in some better lighting. Maybe then people could see that they're not getting much food. Hey, don't take all of them!"

Gold popped two into his mouth, crunching noisily on the BBQ flavored chips. "I bought them," he reminded her, reaching for another handful.

She twisted, trying to keep her arm in his while hugging the bag to her side. "Then you gave them to me. Mine."

Gold sighed heavily. "Ah, there's your something."

"My what?"

"There's always a something," he said, easing them down onto a bench. "People always have a something. It might take a while to see it, but there's always one. Usually it appears on the third or fourth date, but it's good to get it out of the way." She popped a twist into her mouth and watched him, brow raised. "A something is what follows the but when you talk about someone." He pointed at a jogger in the distance. "If I knew him, I would say 'That's Bob. He's got two daughters, a nice job, and he's always willing to go bowling' whenever I saw him."

Amused, Belle watched the jogger disappear around the bend. "And I then I would say he seems nice, and then you would say 'but'..."

Gold nodded, managing to steal another twist. "Exactly. But. He has a something." He tilted his head, considering. "What do you think Bob's something would be?"

She sat the bag of chips on her other side, away from his reaching hands. "Hmm," she hummed, licking orange flavoring off her fingers. "He likes to go bowling... but he cheats."

It would definitely be a something he would point out, a noteworthy something to mark. "How do you cheat at bowling?" he wondered aloud.

"You could bribe the person doing the scoring. Or whoever adds up the points."

Gold leaned against the bench, arms spread across the back. He swung his cane idly, watching the barge lights blink in the distance. "Do a lot of dishonest bowling, do you?"

She jabbed her finger into his side, prompting a laugh. "I do not." She wiggled over, her shoulders brushing his arm. He wondered if it was intentional, but kept his arm across the bench and away from her skin. "Besides, you already said I had a something."

"You can have more than one."

The lamp beside them flickered on, buzzing dimly. Gold glanced up at it, glad it was still a bit too chilly for a large number bugs. A few moths flickered towards the light, but none ventured near them.

"So." Belle bumped her shoulder against him gently. His arm dropped an inch, his fingertips resting just barely on the shoulder of her jacket. "What is it? What's my something?"

He pretended to think it over, drawing the moment out with a pose, finger tapping against his chin. "Well, for one thing you don't share your chips," he said eventually.

Belle clutched the bag protectively. "They are mine to share or not share."

"Greedy. See, it's always something."

"Only child, remember? Never learned to share."

He laughed, reaching around with his other hand to grab the bag out of her arms. She leaned against his chest to get away from his questing hand, squealing and laughing when he dropped his cane and wrapped both arms around her.

"I'm an only child too," he reminded her. "I still share."

"Cheater," she laughed. "Alright, alright, here."

She glanced up at him, her head against his arm, mouth smiling, a bit of orange dust on the corner of her lip, and suddenly it wasn't the least bit chilly.

"Does it have to be bad?" she asked. "The something?"

"No," he said, trying to find his voice. "But it usually is."

"Do you have a something?"

He had too many. He was old. He was lame. He worked too much. He worried too much. His friends were only his friends because they refused to leave him alone. He never spent money because people would only like him when they found out about it, and they'd leave once the money was gone.

"Several," he admitted.

The biggest something, the one that would hurt the most, was that this date would lead to another one, and another, and he would get entirely too attached to this wonderful woman. It could only end badly. It always ended badly.

But he couldn't stop himself from leaning down that extra inch and slanting his lips over hers.

And he couldn't stop his heart from pounding when her eyes fluttered open, when she smiled back at him, or when she kissed him again.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle could hear the music pouring out of the apartment before she reached the stairs. Leonard Cohen's velvet steel voice drifted out of the windows, the walls thumping in tempo. Glad that the neighboring apartments were empty and therefore no one could complain, Belle stepped inside.

Emma promptly abandoned her mother mid spin and tackled Belle around her middle.

"Belle, Belle, Belle, Belle," she cried, dancing on her tip toes.

"What?" Belle answered, gasping as the wind was knocked out of her. "What, what, what?"

"Did you really go on a date with Uncle Richard, really? Cus Mama said you did. And Daddy said you did too. What did you do on the date? Did you hold hands? Did you get ice cream?" She tugged on the hem of Belle's pants until Belle gave in and picked her up. "Mama said that people get ice cream on dates. So you and Uncle Richard got ice cream on your date, right?"

Aware that three sets of female ears were listening to the questions and very interested in the answer, Belle danced around the living room.

"What else do people do on dates?" she asked.

Emma shrugged. "I dunno. Daddy says I can't date until I'm thirty. That's _old_. Or until he rolls over in his grave."

"I must be ancient," Mary Margaret mused, spinning past, Ruby gliding along beside her. The both posed on either side of Belle, boxing her in. Ruby supported herself on her toes, extending one leg behind her to wrap it around her roommate and pull her into Mary Margaret's grip.

Emma bounced on Belle's hip. "Can we get ice cream?" she demanded.

"I thought we were dancing."

"I thought we were talking about your date."

Ruby winked at Emma. "You know what else people do on dates? They kiss." She puckered her lips, smacking them nosily at the blonde.

Emma shrieked. "Yuck!" she declared, wiggling down. "Ew, ew, ew. Kissing is _gross_."

"Well you just saved your father a lot of gray hairs," Mary Margaret laughed, watching her daughter flee from Ruby's kisses.

"Stoppit Auntie Ruby, ew, no!"

Ruby whirled, lifting her leg over Belle's head to complete the spin and dropping it onto the table behind her to stand over her friends. Belle knew an awful lot about human anatomy and she still wasn't sure how Ruby did half the moves she did. Not without hurting herself in some way. But she was Ruby, and she did the impossible every day, and Belle had accepted the fact that she would just simply never understand.

"So, spill." The ballerina demanded, plopping onto the end table. "Was there kissing? Ice cream? What?"

Belle's head began to throb as much as her feet. "Can I change first?"

"No," they answered together.

"I just worked twelve hours!"

"And we waited forty-eight to hear how this date went," Mary Margaret said. "So you'd better start talking or I tell Emma where you hid the cookies."

Belle narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

"I have a hyperactive four year old and I'm not afraid to use her."

Ruby grinned wolfishly. "You're doomed either way."

"Fine, but just so you know, I hate you both," Belle declared, stripping her scrub top. She was tired, she was hungry, but she couldn't dodge them any longer. Her private life was no such thing whenever they were around. They wanted details, and they wanted all of them.

She snatched up a clean smelling shirt, pulling it over her head as she made her way into the kitchen. "No on the ice cream, no on the dancing, yes on the kissing."

Ruby squealed. Belle winced as Mary Margaret did too. They could shatter glass if they got loud enough.

"Why are you yelling?!" Emma demanded from the next room.

"Grown up stuff, sweetie," her mother answered.

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Emma turned back to the tv and tuned out the weird grown ups and their weirdness.

"Are you going out again?"

"When would I?" Belle wanted to know. "I'm working doubles all this week, and then I have to-"

"-save the world and do stuff because you're busy like you always are." Ruby rolled her eyes. "Okay, better question: do you _want_ to go out with him again?"

The blush creeping up her neck was answer enough, and Ruby nodded. "So make it happen."

Mary Margaret cut her off before she could protest. "And don't wait around for him either. It's a new day and age. Women call men all the time."

"I'm _busy_."

"You're always busy."

"_He's_ busy."

Mary Margaret held up a hand to stop Ruby, a classic class-calm-down-the-teacher-is-speaking move that worked with her rowdy first graders. "That's actually true. March is wedding season. He's got Leroy manning the pawn shop so he can put more time in at Rumpled Lace. Ashley's watching Bae a lot this week."

Belle blinked at her.

"I might have asked around."

Ruby snickered.

"You're horrible and I still hate you," Belle decided. "But see? He's busy. Now, I'm going to watch Power Rangers with the four year old. Maybe then I'll get some mature conversation."

Emma happily accepted Belle and snuggled up to her, watching people in brightly colored spandex back flip away from explosions.

"Belle?"

"Mm?"

"Do you like Uncle Richard?" she glanced up, all adolescent innocence and big blonde curls. "Like, like him, like him?"

Belle sighed. "I don't know, Emma. I like him more than a friend."

"Is he your boyfriend? My best friend in class has a boyfriend, but he pushes her down on the playground a lot. I don't like him, cus when he's not pushing her down, he makes her play with him and I don't get to play with them. He's mean. And he cries when I hit him."

"You're not supposed to hit people," Belle said, tickling her side.

"Daddy says I can hit the boys."

Of that, Belle had no doubt. If Emma was anything like either of her parents, she would have boys and girls both chasing after her for years. David was probably savoring the boys have cooties phase.

"No, Richard isn't my boyfriend."

Emma stared at the tv. "Maybe he should be. He came over yesterday and Daddy asked about you and Uncle Richard smiled a lot." She nestled further into Belle's side. "I like it when he smiles, cus then it makes Daddy smile too. And that means he's happy, and if you make him happy, and he makes you happy, then you should be happy together."

Feeling her own lips begin to curve, Belle pressed a kiss to the top of Emma's head. "Well," she said, wondering where a four-almost-five year old could possibly get all that wisdom from, "maybe I'll call him then."

Maybe she would.

And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't find time for Richard. Maybe she'd make some.

* * *

"Do you have this in the next size up?"

Gold turned, examining the gown held aloft by a panicking bride. "Yes, far wall," he said, pointing. "Next to the prom dresses."

"Does this come in blue?"

"Do you sell accessories?"

"Do you have layaway?"

Gold ran and ran and ran, the hours blurring together, sagging against the counter dramatically when five o'clock came. David took pity on him and locked the door, flipping the sign to 'closed' before any other hopefuls could stroll in.

"Why did I let myself have a sale?" Gold muttered. "Why?"

"Good for business," David reminded him, carefully sidestepping a gown halfway in the floor that cost more than he made in a month. Even with a sale, Gold could make wallets cry. God help his bank account when Emma decided to dress up for something.

"Hang the business."

David laughed. "Yeah, yeah. You'll be singing a different tune when the numbers come in at the end of the month."

"End of the month, hell. I think I made at least four thousand today alone."

David glanced at the oddly colored fabric inches from his elbow. "I think I'm in the wrong business. You hiring?"

Gold rolled his eyes. "Unless you can sew, you're useless to me."

"I carry a gun."

"You're hired."

Snorting, David decided the counter was safe from expensive things he could break and leaned on it. The shop was normally clean, an impeccable museum of fine clothes and three to four figure price tags. It looked like a bomb had gone off. There were silk ties all over the place, dresses hanging from chairs or draped over the fitting room doors. In the distance, David could see a shoe dangling from the corner of the three way mirror.

"You need a drink," he decided.

Gold reached behind the counter. "Way ahead of you." He pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. "These days are murder for my head, but if I keep having them, Bae can get his PhD without ever having to worry about a thing."

David didn't even want to think about Emma's college fund. Being a cop didn't pay much, and being a teacher paid even less. Though both he and his wife did what they loved, his baby was going to have to work hard to earn every scholarship she could if she wanted to go to any kind of fancy college in the future.

Or marry rich.

But David didn't want to think about that.

Gold folded his arms on the counter, resting his head on top of them. "If you've come to ask me about my date with Belle, get it over with now so I can throw you out and then clean up this mess."

One thing David liked about Gold was that he never beat around the bush. He got to the heart of the matter quickly, striking so fast that you had your answer before you could even voice the question. If he wanted to answer you. Otherwise, you'd never catch him.

Scratching his chin in thought, David surveyed the shop again.

"What if I help you clean up?"

Gold raised his head to eye the other man. "Do you even know what you're offering to do?"

"Don't make me go home to my wife empty handed."

"You just sold yourself into slavery. Done."

For the next half hour, they straightened displays and shelves, hanging tuxedos and dresses and gowns, wiping sticky fingerprints off mirrors, folding the ties neatly back into place. David picked up a stiletto, wondering how women could walk in them.

"So, Belle," he said, searching for the mate of the silver contraption.

"What about Belle?"

Spying something sparkling, David triumphantly held up the now matching pair of shoes, tossing them into their box. "That's the question," he said. "What about Belle? And if you say you're busy, I'll throw these at you."

Gold's mouth snapped shut. He was busy. He truly was. This entire month would be hell with weddings alone, and then the following month prom season would start. Then things would die down only to pick up at the pawn shop, people hoping to sell a few things to take that summer vacation.

And with summer vacation came school being out, and Bae going to Milah's, and that was a headache all its own because he was supposed to be over there for spring break too, but it hadn't happened. Gold still wasn't entirely sure why it hadn't happened, some excuse or another, he couldn't keep them straight anymore. But come May, Bae and Milah were going to the beach for a week. That was firm.

"It went well."

"You have to give me more than that."

Gold ran his hand through his hair. "What do you want me to say? Yes, it went great. Yes, I want to see her again. No, I don't have time, and no, I haven't called her."

"You haven't-" David shook his head. He picked up a shoe. "I'm going to throw this at you now."

"You break it, you buy it."

"You want to see her again, and you're already making excuses not to call her? What is wrong with you?"

He started to say he wasn't making excuses, that he was just busy, but he stopped. Considered the reasons. He did want to see Belle again. They'd had fun, nothing had crashed, and he'd gone home with a smile on his face. She was smart, and kind, and sweet, and beautiful. Who wouldn't want to see her?

But that was just it. Who wouldn't?

"You're being a coward, Richard. Just call her. The worst that could happen is she'll say no."

And how lovely would _that_ be? He could call her, and she would say no. Why wouldn't she? He was forty-one, old, a father, with more baggage than the lost luggage claim. He had no right taking up Belle's time. He was busy.

Gold also realized that, yes, he was being a coward.

"Damn you."

David smirked. "Mary Margaret sent me," he reminded him.

"In that case, damn her too, but you can tell her I called Belle." He pulled out his phone, already dialing, and stalked into the back room.

David boxed up another pair of shoes and grinned.

* * *

"Hey. Yeah, I've been busy. Me too. Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to go to lunch on Wednesday. I know you're working but- one? One sounds perfect. Yes. I'll see you then."

Bemused, the owner of the phone hung up. Turned to a grinning friend. Pointed accusingly.

"You planned this."

"I did nothing. But if I did, and it worked, I will totally take the credit."

A head shook, but lips curved, a heart fluttered, and Wednesday just couldn't come fast enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Gold became aware of a distinct pitter-patter steadily working its way towards his room. A quiet click, a muffled thump, and then silence. His door opened quietly, the hinges giving out the smallest of squeaks. He really needed to oil that before it got too annoying, but it was his warning system.

Without opening his eyes, Gold smiled into his pillow.

Bae carefully crept forward, setting his crutch down onto the floor, wiggling his toes in anticipation. It was hard to do this with his cast on, but he wasn't about to wait for Papa to wake up on his own. Besides, Papa had done this yesterday, and now it was Bae's turn. He had to be careful though, 'cus both him and Papa had bad right legs.

Bae crouched as best he could.

Gold tapped his finger onto the mattress. _3, 2, 1..._

Bae launched himself, catapulting towards the bed. "Wake up Papa!"

Gold twisted in the sheets, caught his son mid-flight, and flipped him down onto the mattress. Bae hollered in surprise, bursting into laughter when Gold wrestled him over to the other side of the bed, tickling him as he went.

"Ha ha!" Gold crowed, flopping back onto his stomach, snuggling up to his son. Bae wiggled, but couldn't sit up. Papa held him down, rubbing his chin against his neck. It tickled, and Bae giggled.

"You're scratchy," he informed his father, reaching up to feel the dark hairs on Papa's cheek.

"No, you're just soft." Gold buried his face in the pillow, wondering if he had the energy to get up. "I need to shave. What time is it?"

Bae kicked and fought and finally managed to scramble upright, crawling to the edge of the bed. He knew numbers now, and could read the ones on Papa's alarm clock if he went slow. "Six... zero... nine," he read carefully.

"One day," Gold muttered, "you're going to have a son of your own, and you'll understand why Papa needs sleep."

Unbothered by the declaration, Bae bounced on the bed. "Can we have pancakes?"

"You always want pancakes."

"I _like_ pancakes." He flipped the cover over his head, burrowing his way across the sea of mattress that separated them. He popped up against Gold's stomach, rubbing his curls against Gold's shirt. He turned his big brown eyes to his father. "Please, Papa? Pleeeeease?"

God help whatever girl he turned that look on in twenty years.

"All right, all right. Pancakes it is."

Bae flung the covers up, disappearing beneath them. "Yaaaay!"

Watching the lump that was his son thrash around and hopelessly mess up his bed, Gold staggered into the bathroom with a yawn. Small children rose early, and Bae was no exception. As he brushed his teeth, Bae rolled off the bed, taking the majority of the bedding with him, knocking the clock off the nightstand in the process.

"Uh-oh..."

Gold sighed. "Son, it's a good thing you're cute."

In the process of untangling himself from the nest of blankets, Bae didn't answer.

"Are you gonna see Belle today?" he demanded after breakfast. He shed his pajama shirt, sticky with syrup, raising his arms and wiggling when they got stuck in the fabric.

With a chuckle, Gold freed his son from the confines of the superman shirt. "Yes. We're going to Emma's birthday party today, remember? Belle is coming with us."

Wednesday's lunch had lead to Thursday's dinner had lead to Friday's casual bite out had lead to meeting up all week had lead to next Saturday is Emma's party, are you going? Belle had mentioned taking the bus to get to the (one week overdue) party after work. It was only natural that he offer her a ride. They lived less than two blocks from each other. It seemed silly to do otherwise.

Bae bounced on his toes, cast rattling against the hardwood floor. "Is she gonna wear a cape?"

"I highly doubt it."

"But what if-" He wiggled into the shirt his father tugged over his head, hands going to his hair to try and smooth it. "What if she has to go fight crime?"

Belle absolutely loved the fact that Bae thought she was a superhero. She'd bent to whisper secrets into his ear last Friday, tales that left Bae awestruck and hopelessly in love with her, flying around the house the rest of the night in his felt mask (Gold had commissioned it himself at Bae's request). Ashley had found it adorable, and they'd snuggled up to watch Superman Returns until Bae fell asleep.

Gold didn't blame his son for having a crush on Belle. He rather had one himself, and had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Belle, as odd as it seemed, was happy to go on dates with him, rushing up on Wednesday still clad in her scrubs, laughing all Thursday when he quipped about finding a better lit restaurant, and kissing him goodnight sweetly on Friday. And good afternoon last Saturday.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"I'm too old to have a girlfriend."

Gold lifted Bae onto the bed to help him into his shorts. His cast would be coming off soon, the bulky dreadful thing, but until then, father and son wiggled and fought and forced clothing over it. Gold had never blessed his occupation more, glad he knew a thing or two about stitches and hems and snaps. He'd had to whip up a pair of pants that Bae could wear over the cast for rainy days. They were looking a little worse for wear now, the hems frayed and beginning to fall apart.

"Nu-uh! Uncle David has a girlfriend. Auntie Mary Margaret!"

"Uncle David," Gold said, helping him slide off the bed to pull the shorts up, "is younger than me. And he's _married_ to Mary Margaret. He's her husband, not her boyfriend."

"Oooh." Bae took that in. "I like Belle."

Hunting his son's left shoe, Gold smiled. "I like her too."

"Do you kiss her?"

Startled- where had that come from?- Gold tossed the shoe at Bae. "Yes," he said slowly. "Does that bother you?" Bae might like Belle in theory, but liking someone and being okay with his father dating them (but they weren't dating... were they?) was something else entirely.

"I think kissing is gross," Bae confessed, mouth scrunching to the side. "Uncle David and Auntie Mary Margaret kiss _all _the time." He wiggled his entire body, head swinging side to side in displeasure. "Blech."

Well then. Gold wasn't sure what to make of that.

"It can be nice," he said weakly, kneeling to tie Bae's sneaker. Really, really nice.

"You _like_ kissing?"

Bae looked like he absolutely could not believe that for a single second, and Gold had to laugh at him. He hugged Bae hard, wishing for a moment he'd stay this young and innocent (and away from people his age who liked to kiss) forever.

"I like kissing Belle," he clarified. "And one day might find someone you like kissing too."

"No!" Bae looked horrified. "Kissing is gross!"

"You might change your mind one day. Now come on, we have to get Belle."

Bae snatched up one crutch. Emma's party was a pool party, thanks to the cooperating weather, and Bae wouldn't be able to swim due to the cast. Gold had tried to raise his spirits by allowing him to leave one crutch at home. He was a week from having the cast off, but Emma had already waited a week past her birthday for her party, and she wasn't about to wait another.

"Does Belle like kissing you?"

"I hope so. Why all the questions?"

Bae shrugged, grabbing his backpack. He couldn't play in the pool, so he was bringing along a few toys to hopefully keep himself occupied. "You smile a lot now," he said happily, reaching to be picked up. "An' Belle does too." Bae draped himself over Gold's shoulder, nuzzling into his shirt. "I love you Papa."

With that, Gold's heart just melted, and he paused in the doorway to hold his son. "I love you too, Bae." His son smelled like maple syrup and laundry detergent, and Gold inhaled deeply. "Come on now. I'm sure Belle is wondering where we are."

* * *

"Daddy watch!"

David turned dutifully away from the grill to observe his daughter doing yet another cannon ball.

"Nice, honey."

"I'm the best cannon baller in the world!" Emma cried, sinking briefly when she raised her arms. "Right, Daddy?"

David and Gold shared a look of amusement. "Right. Why don't you come eat? If you stay in the water too long you might turn into a mermaid."

Emma considered that. Apparently deciding it was worth it, she took a big gulp of air and sank under the water, splashing nosily as she kicked her feet to swim to the edge of the pool. She popped up by the edge, tugged on Gold's sleeve. "How come Bae's not swimming?" she asked. "_Everybody _swims. Can he swim? I could teach him. I'm real good."

Behind him, Belle chuckled.

"You sure are," Gold agreed. He didn't feel like arguing with a five year old. Especially not the birthday girl. "He can't get his cast wet."

"Why not?"

"It would fall apart, and he still has to wear it," Belle explained, standing on her tiptoes to see over him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, wrapping one arm around his middle to steady herself.

"Oh." Emma glanced over at Bae, busy consuming his second piece of cake with a redheaded boy Mary Margaret had introduced as August. "Well I'll swim extra long for him," she decided, diving backwards into the water.

David sighed. "She's going to come out with green hair," he predicted. "And I'll have to wash it out tonight."

"Somehow, I don't think she'll mind."

Belle laughed, kissing his cheek. "Emma is quite happy to splash around for hours. She was counting down the minutes until the party. I'm convinced she actually is a mermaid."

"We are very lucky it's finally warm enough. Otherwise the birthday girl would not have been happy." David scooped the burgers off the grill, plating them up. He eyed the hot dog supply, wondering if he should open another package. "She already complained that we had to wait until today to celebrate, even though her birthday was last Saturday."

"She mentioned that," Gold said, watching Bae show August his Ninja Turtles. He smiled. His boy could make friends anywhere.

David grinned crookedly. "It was too cold last week, and everyone had to work."

"I bet she didn't care about that one bit."

"Not at all. Parties are supposed to be on birthdays. She was mad at us for two days."

Belle accepted the plate he handed her. "She seems to have forgotten about it now," she said. She felt Richard slide an arm around her waist and fought the blush at David's raised brow.

Emma popped up to study them. "Is Belle your girlfriend?" she asked when Belle took his hand.

The three adults froze, eyeing the water logged five year old carefully. David swallowed a laugh, and thanked the heavens for small children. He, Mary Margaret, and Ruby had been wondering the same thing for weeks now, but nothing had been confirmed or denied (just carefully evaded).

But now Emma was asking, and she would keep asking until she had an answer.

"That's a stupid question," Bae piped up.

"Bae," Gold scolded.

Emma made a face. "Is not! You're stupid."

"Emma," her father warned.

Belle glanced down at her hand, laced together with Richard's, her fingers wound around his. She bit her lip, peeking up at Gold through her lashes, a flush creeping up her neck. They'd been with each other constantly for weeks now, and had gone on several dates, but going on dates and dating were two very separate and very different things.

Brown eyes held blue, and though his face was impassive, there was a question in the way he looked at her. Slowly, his thumb caressed the back of her hand, barely a whisper of pressure. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Belle smiled.

"Yes," they answered together, unable to stop smiling at each other.

"We're dating," Gold informed Emma, who sank back into the water, curiosity satisfied.

"But Papa, you said you were too old for girlfriends this morning."

Gold resisted the urge to clamp his hand over his only child's mouth. He turned a tight smile to the five year old, pinned him with a muted glare. Bae stuffed a hotdog in his mouth, chewing loudly.

"Close your mouth when you chew, son," Gold sighed as Belle giggled into his shoulder. "And what is so funny?"

"You," she beamed, kissing him quickly.

"Ew," the children exclaimed, vanishing quickly to go play. Emma splashed Bae lightly, aiming to get his left side. Bae howled, reaching into the water to splash her back, running before she could pull him in.

"August, wanna play Ninja Turtles?"

"Daddy, Bae splashed me!"

"You splashed him first," David pointed out. He smirked, watching Belle and Richard walk hand-in-hand to the picnic table to supervise the Ninja Turtle battle. He turned back to the grill with a satisfied air. Ruby owed him five dollars.


	9. Chapter 9

Belle had a split second to drop the file on the desk, extend her arms, brace her feet, and catch Bae as he flew up to latch onto her.

"Oof," she wheezed, stumbling backwards. Emma's tackles, which Belle was subjected to every time she visited the Nolans, were legendary, but they paled in comparison to a boy who'd just gotten his cast off.

"I got my cast off!" Bae announced, wrapping his arms around her neck.

"I see!" Unable to resist, Belle nuzzled his hair. "How does it feel?"

Bae wrapped his legs around her waist, effectively plastering himself to her. Keeping on arm under him in case he slipped, Belle managed to balance the five year old and complete her paperwork.

She ignored Tiana's questioning stare.

"I can run! We're going to the park." Excited, he bounced on her hip, hiding his face in her neck when Richard rounded the corner.

Exasperated, he shook his head when he saw where his son had run off to.

"Bae, how many times have I told you not to run off like that?"

"I found Belle!" Bae exclaimed happily.

"Can't argue with that excuse," Richard muttered, leaning to give her a quick kiss. "Hi."

Tiana made no effort in hiding her smile. Belle fought her blush, rising up on her toes to kiss Richard properly. "Hi."

Bae leaned back in her arms, nearly toppling over until he hit his father's chest. Between his two favorite people in the world, he happily wiggled around, prompting chuckles from the surrounding doctors and nurses. Bae reached backwards to loop his arms around Richard's neck, stretching out between them.

"Park! I wanna ride the merry go-round!"

Managing to twist around and keep Bae balanced, Belle turned to the nurses station to hand Charlotte her paperwork. "Could you drop that in Whale's box for me?"

Charlotte eyed Richard appreciatively. "Sure, honey," she said with a wink. "You run off and play now. You'll make sure she has fun, right?" she asked Bae, who nodded.

"Are you off?" Richard asked. "Son, you're strangling Papa."

Bae immediately released them both and dropped to the floor, popping up to try and peer over the desk, watching Belle as she moved around behind it.

"Lunch break," Belle answered, stapling a new chart to a file. "I'll have an hour one since I agreed to stay late."

Tiana turned in her chair. "Thank you!" she called, completing the circle to face the computer again.

"Wanna come to the park?" Bae asked. "They have slides!"

Belle laughed. "How could anyone refuse that? Let me get my purse, okay?"

"Papa, will you push me on the swing?"

Richard eyed Bae's hands creeping towards the candy jar. "Don't I always? Hands, Bae. You don't need any more candy today." Not trusting the boy entirely, Richard bent and scooped him up. "We're about to eat lunch."

"Is Belle gonna eat with us?"

The blonde nurse- Charlotte, Belle had called her- leaned over the desk. "She'd better. Girl hardly ever eats. You're Richard?" At Gold's nod, she grinned. "Dang, Tia, Belle snagged herself a handsome one. Both of 'em." She winked at Richard and grinned. "You got a brother, sugar?"

"No."

Charlotte put a hand to her heart, rocking back on her heels as if he'd physically struck her. "Well in that case, I'll have to wait till this handsome little man grows up. How old are you, baby?"

Richard resisted the urge to take a step back. "He's about fifteen years too young to marry."

"I'm five," Bae told her.

"Well then. I'll just have to pine for both of you forever."

"Lottie, leave the poor man alone," Tiana called, eyes still glued to the computer.

Charlotte huffed. "I'm just askin' a question. Not everyone has found their dream man, you know." She turned back to Richard. "Besides, he's a cutie. Belle was smart to snatch you up."

"Thank you," Belle said, elbowing her fellow nurse. Charlotte mock pouted, lower lip jutted out at far as it would go. Belle rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Let's go before Lottie decides she's not waiting for Bae to grow up."

"Bye, sugar. You come back and see me soon! And bring some friends!"

Richard glanced down at Belle, eyes wide. "Is she always that... forward?"

"Only to people she thinks are cute," Belle said simply, as if it were obvious and true. She grinned up at him. "Can't say I blame her."

Richard adjusted his hold on Bae, wishing he had a free arm to wrap around her shoulders, so he could pull her close and kiss her senseless, but Bae clung tightly to him and his cane was, as always, glued to his right hand.

"She's harmless, but if you were single it would have been much worse. You would have been lucky to escape without lipstick marks all over you." She laughed at his look. "It's how she claims her men."

Richard buckled Bae into his seat. "That's a terrifying, and rather horrifying, thought," he told her.

"Don't like lipstick marks?"

"I just prefer brunettes."

Arms free, he yanked her close, smirking at her startled gasp. She titled her head back to look at him, purse slipping up to her shoulder when she raised her arm to wrap it around his neck. "You're not wearing lipstick," he noticed, grazing her nose gently with his.

"I don't wear any at work," she said. He could see her pulse jumping at her neck. Longed to cover it with his mouth.

"Then how will you claim me?"

Belle threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking him down to kiss him hard. "Oh, trust me," she said breathlessly, lips brushing against his with the words. "Everyone knows you're mine."

He hummed in agreement, and, feeling the eyes of people watching through windows, kissed her again so everyone would know that while he was hers, she was most certainly his.

* * *

Belle chased Bae around the playground for ten minutes straight, up the ladders, down the slides, across the monkey bars, through the tire swings, and finally admitted defeat when he scrambled up the jungle gym, perching triumphantly on the middle section.

"Not any higher, Bae," Gold called. "I mean it. That's far enough."

Bae hung his head. "Okay, Papa," he cried sadly. He wasn't allowed to climb up high anymore. Papa didn't want him to fall again, but Bae was a good climber. He wouldn't fall, really.

Belle smiled up at him, turning to go sit with Papa on the bench by the sandbox. He liked Belle, even if she and Papa kissed a lot. Grown ups liked kissing for some reason. Bae climbed down (carefully 'cus Papa was watching), retreating to the merry go-round. When he turned around to yell for Papa to watch, Papa was kissing Belle again. Bae scrunched up his nose.

Grown ups were weird.

"He's making that face again, isn't he?"

Gold glanced up. "He is indeed." Bae dove for the empty merry go-round, cackling madly when it spun around lazily. "He was astonished to find that I quite like kissing you."

Belle pulled back slightly. "It doesn't bother him, does it? You and me?"

Gold's heart thudded painfully against his chest, threatening to burst at her concern for Bae. He smiled, drawing her back against him. "No, sweetheart. I asked him. He's got a bit of a crush on you." He dropped a kiss onto her hair, pausing to inhale the scent of vanilla that flooded him. "Can't say that I blame him."

She giggled, resting her head against his chest, turning to watch Bae spin the merry go-round and jump onto it while it was moving. "Good, I was afraid my crush on him was one sided. My poor heart wouldn't have been able to take that."

His chest rumbled with his chuckle. "I see. Dating me for now, but once Bae comes of age, you're going to run off with him."

"Drat, you've seen through my cunning plan." She looked up, nuzzling her nose against his jaw. "I supposed I'll stick with you then, otherwise Charlotte might get you."

"I appreciate it."

They watched Bae run around, running up and down the standing see-saw, jumping off it to flop stomach first onto the swings. He kicked, legs swinging wildly to make the swing go, laughing when he rose up in the air. He wiggled his feet at his father, turning upside down to look at him and Belle. He saw Belle pointing her phone at him and grinned, hoping she was taking a picture.

Belle turned the phone so Richard could see. "He is so cute," she cooed, saving the picture. "I'll send you a copy." She lounged against him, checking the time and groaning. "I don't want to go back to work now. I just want to stay here all day and sleep."

Gold wondered if she meant the park, or laying against him, head on his chest, hand on his thigh, hair over his shoulder. Unable to resist, he bent to kiss her, rubbing gentle circles against her hip, nearly jumping out of his skin when her shirt rode up and he felt the smooth expanse of softness rather than the starchy material of her scrubs.

"My ex-wife would love to catch me asleep in a public place," he muttered. "I'd never hear the end of it."

"How long were you and Milah married?" Belle asked suddenly, winding her foot around his ankle.

Startled, he glanced at her. "Why on earth would you want to know that?"

"I'm trying to do the math. You said you married after college and separated when Bae was little. Little as in, what, two? Three?"

Gold groaned. "Ah, my back story. I was hoping you weren't interested." But he sighed and shifted her closer. She wanted to know, and that wasn't a bad thing, but he really didn't want to remember his marriage. The only good that had come out of it was currently running in circles around a tree. The rest of it was dark, not anything he liked to remember or talk about.

But Belle had asked, so he would answer.

"Two. We weren't together long. Milah and I didn't meet until I was nearly done with my business degree, which came after my law degrees. I was thirty four at the time, and had just barely paid off my loans. I'd started making a name for myself as a lawyer, taking business classes on the side to pass the time between clients. She was in one of my courses. We married a year later. Six months after the wedding, Bae came along. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Belle nodded, lacing their fingers together.

"She was alone with Bae a lot while I was working, or in school, but my hours meant that I would be home in time for his midnight feeding, and she could sleep. I opened Rumpled Lace sometime after I got my degree, and made sure the building large enough for her to use as an art studio. Bae spent most of his time watching me sew. After a while, I noticed she'd started taking extra long on supply runs- an hour to go to a store down the street, two or three hours to go get lunch, late night meetings with potential buyers who never bought anything. It wasn't hard to figure out what was happening."

He still didn't know why it happened. Milah had started disappearing whenever he had Bae, pleading hunger or stifled creativity to get out of the shop or house for a bit. With every trip, she was gone longer and longer. One night she didn't come back at all, leaving Gold to juggle his son, dinner, his work, his sewing, and the laundry all by himself.

"I got angry," he said quietly, watching Bae spin around in the tire swing.

"Anyone would," Belle answered, just as quietly.

He smiled ruefully. "No, I got _angry_. Angry enough to drop Bae off at the day care in the morning, pry the top off an old bottle of scotch, and drink it while I waited for Milah to decide to come home."

The more he drank, the angrier he got, until the bottle was empty, his head was spinning, and Milah floated in the door like she had every right to be there. She had a red mark on her neck, no paint on her jeans- she _always_ had paint on her jeans when she worked, always- and a necklace he most certainly had never gotten her.

"I confronted her. We fought, loudly, screaming at each other for hours until she threw her hair dryer at me, then grabbed a kitchen knife, waving it around as she screamed about me being gone all the time, about being stuck in the house with a toddler who only ever asked for me. She didn't hurt me, but..."

The words caught in his throat. Out of everything he'd done, all the things buried in his past, this was something that he could never undo, something that he always felt ashamed of. "I grabbed her," he admitted quietly. "Around her wrist. Hard enough to bruise. Pinned her against the wall and told her if she'd wanted to kill me, she should have waited until I was asleep to come back."

Belle was silent against him. She rubbed a soothing circle on his chest, running her arm across his middle to hold him. Gold swallowed.

"She told me about Killian, threatened to have him come after me if I didn't let her go right then." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache. "I let her go, and she left. I got the papers in the mail within the week."

Belle's hand cradled his cheek, made him turn and angled him down. She kissed him sweetly, mouth light as air against his. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

With a careful smile, and the realization that she wasn't about to flee from him, Gold pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I got Bae," he said simply. "That's worth any price."

"Including sand in his hair?" she asked, watching Bae dig furiously in the sandbox for buried treasure.

"I found a quarter!" he screamed, launching himself out of the sand. He waved his fist, clutching his prize close, darting back to the swings in glee.

"Especially with sand in his hair. What time to you get off tonight?"

"Supposed to be eight-ish, but there's really no telling on a Friday night."

She'd probably be exhausted after her shift. He knew she'd been at work since nine. She'd be hungry, her feet would hurt, and she'd probably want nothing more than to go home, curl up in bed, and sleep until Sunday. But the words fell out of his mouth anyways.

"Come over afterwards. I'll make you dinner."

Her eyes lit up in a way that made him want to promise her the world.

Milah would be picking Bae up soon, she'd already informed him she was on her way back from South Hampton. It would be just the two of them, and maybe he could give her a proper date this time, no interruptions or tiny meals or small children under foot. Gold loved his son more than life itself, but he was really glad he wouldn't be home that night.

"Okay," Belle agreed, kissing him lightly. "Should I bring anything?"

"You're working all day," he reminded her, standing and gathering their garbage. "Let me take care of everything. Bae, son, it's time to go!"

"I don't wanna leave!" Bae shrieked. "I wanna play!"

"Sorry, son. Your mother will be at the house soon. She wants to spend the weekend with you, remember? Come on."

"No! Wanna play!"

"Now," his father said, and that was Papa's angry voice, and Bae Had Better Listen Right Now, or he'd be in big trouble mister.

Bae pouted and made his way as slowly as possible to them. He stayed silent when Belle picked him up, refusing to hug her or look at Papa. They never let him play long enough. It wasn't fair. He just wanted to stay a little longer, that was all! His head felt heavy though, so he leaned against Belle when she carried him to the car. The sun was really bright. Maybe if he closed his eyes, just for a minute, then everything would be okay...

"He's asleep," Belle whispered.

Gold chuckled knowingly and turned to take Bae from her. "I thought he might nap. He was-"

He stopped.

And could only stare.

Belle cradled Bae close, her cheek resting against his curls, hand running lovingly through the tangled locks. She had her eyes closed, breathing deeply. She kissed his head gently. "He smells like laundry detergent."

Gold's heart stuttered in his chest, but did not stop. It beat a rapid tattoo, pounding hard and fast against his ribs. And then, the miserably tired thing that it was, that had threatened to shrivel and die before, that damn organ that got him into so much trouble over the years did it again happily, readily, and entirely without his consent. It swelled at the sight of Belle holding Bae, the two people he cared the most about creating the most beautiful picture he could ever imagine.

He swallowed.

He was in way over his head.

But he was happy, and he wanted this, so badly, to work. So he smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

He was awake at four am.

It was entirely Belle's fault.

It wasn't that Gold wasn't used to sharing a bed with someone. Bae snuck in often enough during the night- or pounced on him in the morning- that it was unusual for him to go the entire night alone in bed. His sleep was usually interrupted by something (the something being his five year old who was under the impression that Papa wasn't allowed to sleep past six am) once or twice, and it was nothing new.

He just wasn't used to sharing a bed with a woman. And he certainly wasn't used to sharing a bed with Belle.

Gold's eyes were fixed on her the entire night, partially because he couldn't believe it even after all these weeks and partially because she was so beautiful that he couldn't do anything other than stare.

Also, he wanted his covers back.

Years ago he'd developed the habit of curling up in the blankets, and now he couldn't sleep without at least a sheet covering his feet or shoulders.

He discovered weeks back that Belle seemed to have close to the same habit, only she balled up the sheet and cuddled it in her arms as well, wrapping around the ball almost protectively. In the process, she took what little cover he had, wrapping it around herself and leaving him quite without anything resembling a blanket.

She looked so beautiful, all sweet and innocent, but he was tired, and he wanted his blanket back. So he reached over her, intending to wrestle the sheet from her arms. Gold was more than willing to take their place if she needed something to hold on to. It was either him or a pillow, but he was getting the sheet back either way.

Belle muttered something and sleepily swatted his hand, nuzzling closer to the sheet in her arms. "Mm," she protested when he tried again. "G'way."

Gold snorted. "My bed," he reminded her. "My sheet. Give it back."

Without opening her eyes, Belle shook her head. "No. Mine."

As lovely of a picture she made, he really wanted to sleep, and yanked the blanket forcefully out of her hands, draping over them both. Belle made a noise of protest, eyes opening halfway to shoot a glare over her shoulder, but she accepted his arms around her, capturing one limb between hers in place of the blanket.

"'m just gonna steal it back," she warned him, inching backwards until she was nestled completely against him.

Gold huffed, nudging a foot between hers so she could twine their ankles together. He kissed her shoulder, bared by the tank top she wore, and buried his face in her hair. "I'll live," he assured her, already dozing. "Go to sleep."

Belle hummed happily, relaxing in his hold (and it had been an even longer time since he'd held a woman like this, much less in his own bed). She yawned, nuzzling into the pillow like a cat, breath evening out almost instantly. Gold knew she was exhausted. She'd spent the weekend before last enjoying a few days off, making up for 'having a sleep over' (Bae's term and they didn't correct him because technically he was right) without Bae by having another one when he was home, and it had been the last day off she'd gotten.

Spring was in the air, and with it came allergies, hay fever, and people driving like morons. Belle was supposed to have had a day or two off each week, but the ER had gotten backed up with a strain of chicken pox that spread among the nurses like wildfire. Belle had already had her rounds (and her shots) as a child and was one of the few people who could staff the hospital without catching anything. Between her, Charlotte, Tiana, and the mysterious Doctor Whale that he heard a lot about but had never met, they managed to keep everything from exploding.

But now she was tired, sleeping off the effects of a surprise nine hour shift when Tiana unexpectedly came down with a fever and no one else could come in on such short notice.

Gold had planned on taking Bae to New York for the weekend, a trip to Central Park and that toy store he loved so much, but he'd wanted to take Belle as well, planning a stay at the Plaza and a cozy stroll around the big apple, all three of them. It hadn't come together, more of a half-thought than anything, and besides if he'd gone he would have been out of town for the pipe bursting in the pawn shop, leaving Leroy to handle the scheming plumber all on his own.

Gold would be doing all the scheming, thank you very much.

But Belle had come over to eat dinner and stay the following weekend, and Gold concentrated on her wrapped around him, the sound of her sleepy snuffles puffing through the air. And the bright light of her phone. And the loud rattle of it buzzing on the nightstand.

He held her tight when she stirred. "Ignore it."

"It could be an emergency."

"You work in the emergency room. Everything is an emergency." Gold pulled her closer, catching her hands in his own. "They can bother someone else for once," he muttered. "Just leave it. Go back to sleep."

She was exhausted, and they both knew it, but she still wiggled away, snatching her phone up. "Hello?"

Gold sighed, rolling onto his back.

"Five until noon?" Belle glanced over at the alarm clock, the red digits reading four thirty-six. "Sure."

Gold stared at the ceiling, muttering to himself.

"What was that?"

"I was just wondering how long it will take you to get sick," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You never sleep, and when you do, it's never more than five hours before your damn phone goes off."

Belle threw her corner of the sheet on his face. "My, aren't we cranky this morning," she said on a yawn. She stood and stretched, and though it was a lovely view, she was out of bed now, and leaving. "I could use the hours. Where did you put my pants?"

He shrugged, not remembering or caring where he'd thrown them. "Belle, you do nothing but work. Hours isn't the issue."

Belle gathered her hair into a ponytail as she crossed the room, picking up her discarded clothes from the day before along the way. "No, but more hours means a better paycheck, and that I definitely could use."

That woke him up. Belle hardly spent any money, unless it was on books. David had joked once that she was secretly supporting a small country with her salary, claiming there was no way she could be working as much as she did and always be as broke as she claimed.

"Why do you need more money?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. "I knew it. You're in deep with the Mafia, aren't you?"

Belle laughed, tugging on a fresh set of scrubs, sitting down on the foot of the bed to tie her shoes. "The same reason everyone else my age needs money- it's time to repay all those student loans." She paused. "Which, now that I think about it, is kind of like being involved with the Mafia."

Ah, now those days he remembered clearly, barely scraping by with the odd client or two, his wages gone as soon as they arrived to pay for the degree that hung uselessly on the wall. He'd only started making decent money after adding criminal law to his business, and even then the repayments had been outrageous. He was in debt for years before managing to pay everything back, and afterwards he'd still been broke trying to get his sewing business going and support his wife and newborn son.

The tune was entirely different nowadays. Though now he had more money than he knew what to do with, and way more than he could ever possibly spend in one lifetime, Gold never forgot the years of living on spaghetti, working extra hours to keep the lights on, and the pitiful budget that barely let him get new socks.

"Educational debt is the only debt that I approve of and simultaneously loathe," he muttered. "I still think you should get back into bed."

"Of course you do." But she smiled and crawled up the mattress to kiss him. "But I'm in debt up to my eyeballs, so to work I go."

Gold cocked his head, chasing her lips for another kiss. "Nursing school is that expensive?" Belle had gone to the first school that had accepted her, a private college on the outskirts of Boston that had turned his application down (which turned out to be a good thing because if he had attended there, he'd _still_ be paying back his loans).

"Well, at first I was going for library science, but a librarian's salary is half of what I'd had to take out just to get into the country, so I switched at the beginning of my third year." She smiled against his mouth, following him down to lay flat against the sheets. "I had to take some summer courses to make up for the classes I took under the other major, and I didn't qualify for many scholarships that supported me going to an American college. Loans were my only option, but it was worth it."

Gold took a moment to wonder just how much she owed, and how many of the loans were private or bank loans, ones that had high interest rates that never seemed to stop climbing. She'd mentioned taking out a bank loan to buy her plane ticket out of Australia and get her student visa- and later her citizenship after a failed relationship that broke her dad's heart more than hers. He knew summer college courses were expensive on their own. College textbooks alone were murder- he'd had to take out a loan just for those.

Belle gave him one last kiss before scrambling out of his arms. "Gotta go."

"I can drive you," he offered, resigning himself to the fact she was truly getting out of bed and going to work despite the four hours of sleep she'd gotten.

"No, don't wake up Bae, it's only six blocks to the bus stop. I get off at noon... hopefully. We can do lunch like we planned."

She blew a kiss from the doorway, a beautiful picture to imprint forever in his mind, and then she was gone.

Gold glanced at the clock. They had plans for lunch later (and a dinner reservation that she didn't know about). If she was back by one at the latest, lunch and the park could work out without any I'm-hungry-and-tired-but-I-refuse-to-nap meltdowns from Bae. With a sigh that turned into a yawn, Gold rolled onto his stomach, pulling the sheet around his shoulders. In seven hours and fifteen minutes, Belle would be free to spend the day however she liked.

Hopefully, she'd be able to spend it with him.

* * *

Eight hours and forty-five minutes later, Gold stood in his kitchen with a screaming five year old and lost the fight with a headache.

"Enough of that, Bae. Eat your lunch."

Bae pouted, shoving the plate hard along the table. It bounced harmlessly off the wall and skidded back within the cranky boy's reach. "I don' want mac 'n cheese," he declared, eyeing the meal before him with distaste.

"You love macaroni and you know it," Gold said tightly, dumping the pot in the sink. "Just eat it, son."

Bae had fallen asleep before noon, around the time Belle had sent a hurried text, informing him of a bad car crash headed her way, along with the news that she would probably be late. Bae slept for barely half an hour, not nearly long enough, and woke cranky, destroying his room and stomping about for no reason other than he could.

With no news from Belle- and he really didn't want to pester her by calling her at work- Gold made Bae clean up (which took two hours and several threats of removing the toys from his room permanently and by then they were both hungry and even more cranky) and set about fixing something quick to tide them over until dinner.

"No!" Bae leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet until they hit the table, rattling the dishes, the table wobbling and inching away from the wall. "No, no, no, no, no!" He punctuated each word with a kick, each one harder than the last, until the table was lopsided, the far end banging against the wall.

Gold grabbed his cane, exiting the kitchen just in time to see the picture in the dining room fall to the floor, the frame cracking in two. Bae picked up his plate and threw it, sending it crashing onto the hardwood floor.

"Baelfire Nealson Gold, you stop that _this instant_." Gold stopped himself from roaring at his son, managing a short bellow instead, loud enough that Bae immediately froze, lower lip jutting out, nose scrunched.

"Don't want mac 'n cheese!" he announced loudly, kicking the table one last time.

"That's it." Gold picked up his son, setting him on his hip. He held tight as Bae squirmed. Denied the table, the boy began kicking what was closest- the wall, the door frames, the couch as the passed the living room, even his father. Gold hauled him up the stairs and deposited Bae into the spare bedroom, setting him onto the bed. "You're in time out," he informed Bae, who immediately began to cry.

"No time out! No, no, no!" Bae flopped onto the bed, punching the mattress and kicking it with all his might.

Gold shut the door, leaning against it for a brief moment. Bae howled from inside, but he was losing steam fast. He'd either quiet and sit still until Gold came to free him, or he'd fall back asleep and finish the nap he'd started earlier. Either way, it gave them both time to calm down, and time for the adult to clean up the mess in the dining room.

Time out could last anywhere from one to ten minutes (the record was fifteen, after Bae had pushed Emma so hard she'd fallen off the back porch and scraped her knee), and it only worked if Bae was alone in a room with nothing to play with. In his bedroom, surrounded by his toys and books and his tv, it wasn't much of a punishment. It was effective, and gave Gold a moment or two of peace before chaos ensued. With four empty guestrooms, it was easy to pick one to use.

Judging by the sounds coming from the designated time out room, there would be a lot of chaos, and several hours before Bae decided he liked his papa again.

Belle was in the kitchen when he came back downstairs, bottom lip between her teeth, sheepishly sweeping up the remnants of Bae's lunch.

"Oh. You're here."

She nodded. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be gone so long-"

"No matter," he said, voice tired and waspish, taking the dustpan from her hand and dumping the contents into the trash. "Bae wasn't very good company today." The dustpan landed hard on the floor when he threw it down. "I'm no better at the moment. It was for the best that you didn't come back. We're better left alone."

"Oh."

There was a world of sadness in that single syllable, and Gold wanted to smack himself.

"I didn't mean-"

"No, I understand." She smiled (smiled at him as her face fell and her eyes were sad). "I'll... I'll see you later then?" She asked like it was a question, and it shouldn't have been, it should be understood that she was welcome, _always_ welcome. That he wanted her around, that Bae wanted her around, but instead of telling her he snapped and snarled because he was tired and angry.

He was always tired and angry.

"Belle, wait."

His hand closed gently around her wrist, stopping her before she could walk out (of his house or his life, but he stopped her in time).

"I'm sorry," he said, because he was. "I shouldn't take this out on you. It's just been a long day."

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, but her eyes were still sad, and more than anything he wanted to make her smile. "It has," she agreed quietly, stepping into his open arms, resting her head against his chest.

She was quiet, and still sad, and Gold held her tight. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

He felt her fists clench around his shirt and knew the answer even before she shook her head. "Lost a patient. I will be all right, after a while," Belle whispered. "Just... not right now."

Gold pressed a kiss into her hair, running his hand along her spine. "What do you need?"

Belle glanced up at him, blue eyes through impossibly thick lashes. Her kiss landed on the corner of his mouth and was gone before he could react. "I have it right here."

They stood in the kitchen, arms around each other, a brief, quiet moment to breathe one another in. Calm, peace, even if just for a second. With her head on his chest, with his hand in her hair, it was perfect, it was right, and it was exactly what they needed: a single moment, and each other.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** There is not going to be any smut in this story. If that's what you're looking for, you're in the wrong place. Rude reviews and messages will not be tolerated.

And as for the "so-called romance" in this story, what's more romantic- being able to spend day after day with a person, accepting their faults and flaws and supporting them one hundred percent... or doing nothing but rolling in the sheets?

For those of you wondering about their dating situation, please re-read the end of chapter eight. They're dating. They haven't been dating long, and so they're still kind of inching along. As of the last chapter, it had barely been three months. Love grows. Give it time to.

Or read something else.

I'm moderating my reviews now, and I never thought I would have to. If this story isn't want you wanted, don't read it, and move on. Or write the one you want to read. Create your own world. My story is just that- mine. I will write it however I see fit. If that doesn't sit well with you, there are plenty more stories to choose from.

And might I just add... it is really, really sad, that I had to put a note like this in my story. Did it make any of you feel better to try and tear me down? To try and make me write something I didn't want to write? To send me rude PMs, or reviews _demanding_ smut or more this or that? I am here to share my story. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's as simple as that.

* * *

May came entirely too fast, and stayed entirely too long for Gold's liking. May meant prom season, the beginning of the summer wedding season, graduation season, and a flurry of people selling their valuables to take a vacation. June blew past without even a pause. He was overloaded with clients, ranging from new businesses coming up with contracts to a woman accused of robbing six banks in an afternoon. Apparently it was some kind of record (the last case, at least, was interesting, even if it was time consuming). July decided to stretch itself to impossible lengths, the last two weeks barely going by at all.

It had nothing to do with Bae being gone. Absolutely not.

It had everything to do with Bae being gone.

After trudging to the shop every day, he then went to Rumpled Lace, then to court, then back to the shop, and then Gold made the long trek home.

To his empty house.

Bae and Milah were on their beach trip (over two months late, but at least it had happened). Bae would be gone for ten more days.

The house was utterly silent.

It was starting to get to him.

Though they had their moments, shouting, and crying, and arguing like fathers and sons did, they loved each other, and Gold's world would not be complete without Bae. It was in the custody arrangement for Milah to have two weeks in the summer to spend with Bae, just her and him (and The Boyfriend, unfortunately, but he tried not to think about that).

Gold have a love/hate relationship with those two weeks.

First, there was the hassle of deciding which two weeks Bae would spend with his mother. Could she get the time off, did Gold have to drive him anywhere or would Milah pick him up, should they go as soon as school let out, should they wait a few weeks... it was a necessary, but headache-inducing part of the process (this time Bae would make it back two days before school started, and they'd yet to do their back-to-school shopping).

Then Milah had to decide where they were going, and get it approved via Gold and the courts. Usually if Gold approved the courts were okay with it, but there had been a few times the trips had been vetoed (Florida was too far, and Canada was out of the question- Gold had carefully agreed both times so Bae could go to Disneyland and Niagara Falls, but the courts had disagreed). Usually they just packed up and headed for Vermont, or New York, but this year Milah was heading further south. North Carolina, and the beach.

After all that, Gold then had to pack Bae's suitcase accordingly. This year had consisted of lots of shorts, swimming trucks, and about five gallons of SPF 50 sunscreen. Bae might have his father's eyes, but he certainly inherited his mother's fair skin.

And then Bae left, hugging his father hard before charging out the door to hop into Milah's waiting car. Gold could see a dark haired man loading Bae's bags into the trunk. Milah was leaning against the window, seemingly asleep in the pre-dawn light.

He hated to see Bae leave. Hated that he would be gone so long. But the boy needed his mother, and he loved spending time with her, and so off he went, once a year every year, for two weeks. Leaving Gold back in Boston, with his clients and customers and the occasional seasonal employee.

Alone.

"You miss him," Doctor Hopper said, legal pad balanced on his knee. "It's natural."

"Of course I miss him. I don't begrudge him time with his mother, either, so you can stop that train of thought."

Archie raised a calming hand. "Never even occurred to me," he insisted, even as he jotted something down. "So what about it bothers you? You've never protested a trip, or the length. In fact, you've said that the vacations have been too short before." Archie consulted his notes. "Milah and Baelfire have been taking these vacations for, what, two years now?"

"Three," Gold corrected, tightening his hand on his cane. "They started immediately after the divorce, when we still had joint custody."

"You obviously have no issue letting him go, and yet you're still uneasy when he's gone. Why is that?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be the one to tell _me_? That is, after all, what I pay you for."

Archie, used to Richard Gold after nearly four years, simply smiled, and waited.

"He's gone," Gold said eventually. The quiet in Doctor Hopper's office was always so _loud_. "It doesn't matter who he's with or what he's doing. When Bae is gone... it feels like a part of me is gone too. The house is empty. Quiet. Entirely too big for just me. Belle comes over a few nights when she can, but she's not always there."

"And you're alone."

Gold swallowed, feeling suddenly raw. "Yes. I'm alone."

Archie sat his notebook on the table, leaning forward to look his client in the eye. "Richard, Baelfire will be home in six days. I think you just need to remind yourself that, no matter how long he's gone, or what he's doing, he'll always come home. He'll always _want_ to come home to you."

And really, that was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? What if, years from now, Bae went on a trip with Milah, and decided he wanted to live with his mother instead of him? What if he didn't want to come home?

It would destroy him. Gold was certain of that.

"You're surrounded by people who love you," Archie was saying. "David, Mary Margaret, and now Belle. Your circle is growing, Richard. You've come a long way in a short time."

"I'd hardly call four years a short time," Gold muttered, leaning back on the couch. The leather creaked underneath him, moaning as if he'd asked it to do some heinous chore.

"In the grand scheme of things, it's not that much time." Archie sat back as well, picking up his notepad again. "Now," he said conversationally. "I want to talk about Belle."

Gold was certain he'd heard him wrong. "Belle?" Archie nodded. "Why on earth do you want to talk about Belle?"

Archie flipped back a few pages and circled something. "Ever since you've started dating her, you've been talking more in our sessions. I haven't had to prod or ease you, you've just opened up. It's amazing progress. She's doing you a lot of good. I can see it."

"I highly doubt that. No one person could ever fix me."

Archie studied him with a level gaze. "Why doubt it? I can see your smile. I can almost see weight coming off your shoulders as you think about her."

Gold, unaware that he'd been smiling, forced his face to relax. He fiddled with the handle on his cane. "What exactly do you want to know about Belle?" he asked carefully. He wasn't sure what the proper protocol was for discussing girlfriends. David knew Belle, but it was one thing to talk about her with their mutual friend. It was another thing entirely to go in-depth about her with his therapist.

Archie smiled easily. "Whatever you want to tell me. If you're not comfortable-"

This time, Gold held up his hand. "I'm just..." He groped for the correct phrasing. "Uneasy," he decided, "talking about Belle, without her knowledge, to you. Or anyone."

Archie didn't look offended. He nodded, a smile playing about his mouth. "Understandable. And commendable. How about this: I'll ask a question about her, and if you want to, you can answer. If not, we'll skip it."

It sounded easy enough, but Archie had a habit of being tricky. He was almost as good with words as Gold was. It was why he liked him. Also, he'd gone through five shrinks before the courts assigned him to Archie and it was either stick with him or go back to Anger Management classes. Gold had stuck with him (somehow for four years, though the courts had only required a year).

"Fine."

"How long have you two been dating?"

"Five months," Gold answered. That was a standard question- even Leroy asked it on occasion (either out of curiosity or to see if Belle had wised up and dumped him yet). "Six in September." They'd been official since Emma's party, but they had agreed they'd been dating since that first dinner, even if they hadn't admitted it for a while.

"She gets along with Bae?"

"Bae absolutely loves her." This time, he felt the smile, did nothing to stop it. "He thinks she's a superhero- cape and all. He's convinced she fights crime on nights she doesn't stay with us."

Archie smiled. "But does she get along with him?" he asked, pen dashing across the page.

"Yes. She constantly steals him to take him to the park, or to the Nolan's to play with Emma. She's good with all children, not just Bae. She lights up around them."

"And your sex life?"

Gold bristled. "Next question." He'd never once answered that question in the four years he'd spent in this office. He wasn't about to start now.

"Have you met Belle's friends?" Archie continued smoothly, as if Gold hadn't been ready to bite off his head at the previous inquiry.

"Her roommate and I get along. I've met a few of her coworkers, with... varying degrees of interest."

"Yours or theirs?"

"I don't much care for some of them, and I don't have an opinion about others, though I am currently the primary male target of one Charlotte LaBeouf. I'm lucky to escape the hospital with my shirt on."

Archie's pen paused above the paper.

"So she... likes you?" he hazarded. He looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Belle seems to think she wants to-" He made quotes in the air with his free hand. "-'jump my bones'. She thinks it's funny."

Apparently Archie did too. His face was the color of his hair, his pressed together thinly, as if he was holding back a laugh. Gold rolled his eyes. That was usually the reaction he got when he told someone about Charlotte. David had laughed himself to tears at the tale, clutching his side and wheezing until Gold had threatened to introduce him to Charlotte, see how he liked it. (He kept laughing, shaking his head and snorting for an hour afterwards until Emma asked what was so funny.)

The timer let out a friendly beep.

Archie let out a controlled breath, but the smile conquered his face. "That's all for today. We'll continue this next time, if you're comfortable."

"More about Belle? Aren't you getting paid to talk about me?" Gold asked, standing. Really, he shouldn't be surprised. Archie knew everything about his life, and Belle was a part, a big part, of his life now. It was only natural she would come up.

"She's good for you." Archie shook his hand, holding it for a split second. "And off the record... She sounds amazing, Richard. If she makes you happy, you hang on to her. You deserve some good in your life."

They scheduled another session in two weeks. Gold spent the drive home wondering what exactly he'd ever done to deserve anything good in his life, much less Belle. Nobody could ever deserve Belle, especially not him. He was fifteen years older than her, for one thing (but that didn't seem to bother her in the least). He had many issues (she'd managed to avoid meeting Milah so far, he'd like to keep that up, but she loved Bae and didn't judge him for his past).

Gold forced his mind to quiet. If he started thinking about his faults, he'd be up for two weeks completing the list.

At least Bae would be home by then.

* * *

Belle appeared with three bags shortly after he got home, and declared she was staying the night.

"Ruby is driving me crazy with the music," she said, depositing the bags on the kitchen table. "It's almost time for opening day of her show, and she's been rehearsing nonstop. If I hear one more wolf howl at two am, I am going to scream."

Gold couldn't fault her that. He took her overnight bag from her shoulder, sliding it down her arm to the floor.

"Actually, if I hear another wolf howl in general, I might hit something." She dug into the plastic bag on the table. "I haven't eaten yet, so I brought some Lo Mein from that Chinese place on the corner. I got two servings, have you eaten yet?"

He hadn't, he realized, and his stomach growled at the heavenly smell drifting into the air. "I'm starved," he admitted, peering into the remaining bag on the table. "What's this?"

Belle glanced at it, pulling the chopsticks out of their wraps and setting them to the side. "Entertainment. We've gone through your movie collection already, so I thought we'd start on mine. Last time you were over we... got distracted."

Gold, remembering exactly what had distracted them, smirked. "That's one way of putting it." Belle flushed. He pulled the DVDs out to study the titles. "_Penelope_?"

"Don't judge it before you've seen it. It's actually really good. A modern-day fairy tale." She took a bite of Lo Mein, slurping the noodles. "Plus I loved her as Wednesday Addams."

Gold smirked again. "I said nothing."

"You were thinking something."

"_Paranormal Activity_- Bae begged me to take him to see these. I said no."

Belle grinned. "Wise choice. But I brought them because you can't have a movie night without at least one horror movie. The second one is the best one, but I'm betting you haven't seen the first one."

"You'd be right. Oh now." He grinned, a wide, toothy grin that flashed the gold in his mouth. "We are definitely watching this," he said, turning the case around for her to see the title. "_The Princess Bride_ is a classic. And it's fantastic."

"As you wish," Belle laughed, slurping more noodles. "I am starving." She dropped her chopsticks onto the table, turning to face him fully. She kissed him lightly, then not so lightly, arms around his neck, up on her tip toes so she could rub her nose against his. "Hi."

Gold wrapped his arm around her waist, bending slightly to kiss her forehead, her nose, lingering on her mouth. Suddenly, the house wasn't so large, so empty. It was bright, filled with laughter and sound and light. "Hi," he whispered.

But that was Belle, in all her shining glory. She really was amazing, this woman who put up with him, who smiled at him and filled him with warmth, and he spent the night basking in her glow.

* * *

**Note:** There is not going to be any smut in this story. If that's what you're looking for, you're in the wrong place. Rude reviews and messages will not be tolerated.

And as for the "so-called romance" in this story, what's more romantic- being able to spend day after day with a person, accepting their faults and flaws and supporting them one hundred percent... or doing nothing but rolling in the sheets?

For those of you wondering about their dating situation, please re-read the end of chapter eight. They're dating. They haven't been dating long, and so they're still kind of inching along. As of the last chapter, it had barely been three months. Love grows. Give it time to.

Or read something else.

I'm moderating my reviews now, and I never thought I would have to. If this story isn't want you wanted, don't read it, and move on. Or write the one you want to read. Create your own world. My story is just that- mine. I will write it however I see fit. If that doesn't sit well with you, there are plenty more stories to choose from.

And might I just add... it is really, really sad, that I had to put a note like this in my story. Did it make any of you feel better to try and tear me down? To try and make me write something I didn't want to write? To send me rude PMs, or reviews _demanding_ smut or more this or that? I am here to share my story. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's as simple as that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** First, I am floored by the positive response to the note and my decision not to include smut in this story. Thank you all so much. Second, I'm sorry if I came off as rude in the note, but please consider the fact that I posted the note because I was deleting up to four reviews a day for two weeks, and was also getting PMs from people that later had to be blocked. Third, the people who politely asked about smut or sent me an inquiry that wasn't a demand, that note was not aimed at you in any way. It was meant for the people who sent the "this is boring with smut" "you'd better put smut in a later chapter or I wasted good time reading this" reviews/messages.

Fourth. When I said rude messages would not be tolerated, I meant that they _would not be tolerated_. I don't care if you saw "only three rude reviews" or if you had issues with a previous author and drama from the authors notes. If the note bothers you, ignore it and scroll past it, but it stays. Telling me that a friend of yours won't be reading the story anymore, or that you won't be either isn't a way to get what you want. I had to do something about the reviews and messages without replying individually to each one. If me defending myself is enough to make you quit reading a story, then I don't want you reading it in the first place. Anyone else who messages me saying these things will be blocked from messaging me as well as reviewing any of my stories.

And despite your digs to the contrary, I was not digging for reviews. I just wanted the hate to stop.

Hopefully this will be the last long note I have to post. I'm sorry I had to add on to the past two chapters, but things had to be said. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Eventually, it happened. He knew it would. Certain things in life were unavoidable, no matter how distasteful they were. Children grew from adorable small ones into surly teenagers. Vacations were taken, and were over far too quickly. Impatient customers that demanded that their outrageous requests be met. Girlfriends met ex-wives.

Belle met Milah.

It wasn't a pleasant meeting.

Which, of course, was the nature of things, because that was his life. Nothing could ever remain pleasant no matter how wonderful they started out. He and Belle had gotten into a small disagreement the day before- a small, simmering argument that was mostly due to the lack of sleep on both parts (hers because of work, his... because of work too, but he had roused from sleep to take the emergency call from his client to find Belle darting out the door after going to bed a mere three hours beforehand).

She had come back to the house long after he had, exhausted, clad in her undershirt and scrub pants. Her top had blood on it, and spit from a violent patient. He'd mentioned she needed to stop working over sixty hours a week. She'd pointed out he'd been working nearly as much as her, even with Rumpled Lace closed for a week while he worked the pawn shop so Leroy could take a vacation.

Well, at least he had the sense to say no sometimes.

Yes, but he was the boss and could therefore afford to say no.

True, however a day off once in a while wouldn't kill one, especially if one was in bed with someone else, catching up on much needed sleep.

Oh, that's how it was. All well and good to go to work, but heaven forbid one disturb ones bed partner in the process. Not everyone can sit back and earn hourly wages over the phone like certain people.

And so on.

Eventually, they'd both retreated to separate corners of the house to cool down (Belle fell asleep on the couch, the tv flickering quietly across her face. Gold nearly dozed off at his desk and made himself get up to throw together some sandwiches and rouse Belle and feed her). That night they crawled into bed silently, both asleep within minutes. They woke up curled around each other, Gold's arm trapped between Belle's, her ankle wound around his. She ignored her phone because it was work. He threw his across the room after he made sure it wasn't Milah or Bae.

He was sorry. He'd been tired and annoyed. And worried, because, really, she did work too much. All the time, and she was exhausted, and everyone knew it.

She was sorry too. She was tired, and being tired made her more cranky than Bae when he didn't nap, and made her say things she didn't really mean. Or word them in a terrible way. But yes, she needed to say no every once in a while. It was starting to get to her, all that work. He was absolutely right (not that he should have phrased it like that mind you...).

Gold had snickered and kissed her, and that was that.

They spent the day in bed, curled beneath the sheets, when Belle didn't hog them. They dozed off and on, waking every once in a while to eat or read or watch the tv tucked in the corner. Neither could remember the last time they'd had a lazy day, and it was wonderful, exactly what they needed.

Belle produced a book from her nightstand drawer (she had a nightstand, a side of the bed, and two drawers in a dresser to store her things because she split her time between her place, where Ruby still played music at odd hours, and his, where she could actually sleep if she wasn't working). Gold wasn't surprised. She constantly had a half-read book with her, and usually a new one in her bag.

"What are you reading?" he asked, shifting to lay on his side so he could keep one eye on the television and one eye on her.

"_The Fault In Our Stars_. Mary Margaret's English class is reading it and I snagged a copy." She turned the page, eyes glued to the words before her. "I can't put it down."

"John Green is a fantastic author," he said. "I own a few of his novels."

"What's your favorite?" Belle asked, closing the book around her finger to look at him.

Gold tilted his head, considering. "What a hard question."

Belle laughed. "Asking a bookworm to pick a favorite book is like asking a parent to pick their favorite child."

"Well now, that's easy. Bae's my favorite, but David's a close second."

Gold smiled when she shrieked with laughter, collapsing against the headboard to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I'll have to tell him he's only the second favorite," she giggled.

"Third if Emma is around," Gold admitted. "Is that your phone?"

Belle cocked her head, listening to the distant ring. Both their phones were against the far wall, buried under their pajamas and shoes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn casual clothes, or roamed around barefoot, book in hand, ignoring the phone as it demanded her attention.

"Must be yours. I think you broke it when you threw it earlier."

"It shouldn't have been ringing so much," Gold grumped. "It was interrupting my sleep." He stretched to kiss her, ignoring the annoying tinkle that was his ringtone. He really needed to change it. It got on his nerves more than anything.

Belle returned this kiss gently, reaching behind her to drop her book safely on her nightstand. She missed, twisting to catch it before it fell to the ground, giggling when Gold caught her around the waist and hauled her back onto the bed.

"Sweetheart, you're going to fall if you're not careful."

His phone rang again, insistent in its corner.

"You should probably get that," Belle murmured against his mouth. She turned her head. "Richard, really. It could be important."

He muttered something about damn phones under his breath while she retrieved her book. She admired the view, biting back the giggle at Richard's idea of casual clothing- black pants with sharp creases (a bit wrinkled from lounging in bed most of the day) a dark red shirt, only the top button undone, cuffs secure around his wrists, and (she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing outright) black socks with blue fuzzy stripes.

Apparently 'casual' to Richard meant not wearing a tie (she was wearing jean shorts and a plain white shirt, her toenails painted bright blue).

She could live with that.

"-bringing him back early. Yes, early. You specifically said you wanted to have him until Sunday night." Richard rubbed his forehead, mouth tight and pulled into a frown. "You can't just drop him off when it's inconvenient for you to have him." He paused to listen to the voice on the other end. His fist came down hard on his dresser. "I don't care what Killian is doing- Bae is your son! You should want to spend time with him!"

Belle crept up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She laid her head on his shoulder, dropping a kiss to the back of his neck. Gold hunched over, then straightened, covering her hand with his free one, tilting his head back until it brushed the top of hers.

"Fine," he growled into the phone. "Drop him off. If you want him to come home early, you have to bring him back." He hung up, clutching the phone tightly in his hand, wishing he really could hurl it across the room and smash it with his cane.

Belle slipped the device out of his hand, laying it out of reach on the bed.

"Bae's coming home?" she guessed, running her hand across his chest.

It felt wonderful to have her wrapped around him, and he didn't want to move for the world. "She just got him yesterday after school. Not even a full twenty-four hours." He let his head drop against his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling as Belle soothed the tension in his shoulders away. "Why doesn't she want to spend time with him? He's her son."

Belle kissed his shoulder. "She loves him," she said, turning to rest her cheek against his arm.

Gold squeezed her hand, glancing down at her. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "that's not enough."

* * *

Bae didn't seem to mind coming home a day early from his weekend with his mom. He was still talking about the beach trip from three weeks ago. His teacher said it was all he'd talk about in school, proudly showing off where his skin had peeled from the sunburn he'd gotten (Gold had made a mental note to pack more sunscreen next time, not that it would do any good if it wasn't actually _used_). Which was gross to the girls, but immediately made him cool among the boys.

His son was in first grade now. Hadn't he just been born? Surely it wasn't time for that yet.

But it was, and Gold and Bae got up at six thirty on the dot (or earlier of Bae pounced) and got ready for school or work together. Now that school was back in session, Rumpled Lace would slow down for a bit- to the point that he cut back his hours to take more clients and put in more time at the shop if he could. He spent the evenings home with Bae, so he did what he could in the mornings, and stopped at three.

From the time Bae got off the bus, or when Gold picked him up, until eight o'clock (bedtime for the five year old), Gold didn't touch his work unless Bae was occupied with something. They spent their time together, doing homework, playing, or just watching tv. Bae would help him make dinner, and then Gold would do laundry and clean while he had a bath. Even if they were doing two completely different things, they tried to be in the same room with each other.

When Bae got older, the tune would be different, and he knew this, and so Gold savored every minute spent with his son. All too soon, Bae would be demanding space, mad at the world, and refusing to talk to anyone over the age of twenty.

But for now, he charged up the walkway and tackled his father.

"Papa! I drawed a dinosaur!" He waved the paper excitedly, bouncing on his toes until Gold picked him up.

"You _drew_ a dinosaur," Gold corrected. "Let's have a look then. Look at that, it looks amazing! We'll have to hang it on the fridge."

Bae took the paper back and shoved it at Belle. "Look, Belle!"

Belle made the appropriate noises, grinning over the T-Rex (at least, Bae said it was a T-Rex). "You are a regular Picasso," she said, accepting him into her arms when he leaned away from Papa. "Let's go hang it up, okay?"

"With magnets!" Bae cried, wiggling down to run into the kitchen full speed.

"Don't run in the house- son!" Gold sighed. Bae was already long gone, swallowed by the depths of the house.

Belle grinned. "I'll go get him."

"Thank you."

Milah made no secret of watching Belle as she turned to follow Bae into the house. She crossed her arms, hip popping out, and he knew that stance well. He'd seen it several times over the years, the divorce doing nothing to remove it from his life. Milah was Unhappy With Him. He didn't have the faintest idea why, nor did he care.

She tapped her fingers on her arms.

"Something on your mind, dearie?"

Belle appeared, minus one drawing, smiling wide. Bae could be heard in the living room, getting out his crayons and colored pencils to draw another picture, talking to himself about dinosaurs and cavemen.

Milah didn't even glance at Belle.

"They get younger every year," she said, and if Belle hadn't been standing right there she still would have heard Milah, her voice pitched to carry throughout the house. "Of course, the older you get, the younger they have to be."

Gold's grip tightened around his cane. Belle's smile dimmed.

"The same could be said for you. How old is Keith? Twenty-nine?"

"_Killian_ is only three years younger than me. Where did you get her, the local high school? She-"

Belle's hand clamped down on his elbow, keeping him inside the house. "She is right here," she said calmly. "It doesn't matter how old I am- that's our business." She pulled gently on his arm, then harder when he didn't move. "Would you like to say goodbye to Bae? He kind of ran up without you. I'm sure he would-"

Milah sneered at the younger woman. "I don't want to set foot in that house with you."

The only thing keeping him from physically throwing Milah off his property was Belle's death grip on his arm. "Then leave," he ordered. "And the next time you talk to Belle like that, I'll make sure you won't be able to see Bae for months."

"Richard, enough." Belle reached around him for the door. "Goodbye, Milah. Have a safe trip home."

The door shut between them, leaving Milah glaring from the lawn. Richard hit his head against the door, leaning against the wood until he heard her car peel out from the curb. Belle gently touched his shoulder.

"You shouldn't use Bae as a weapon against her," she said quietly.

"She shouldn't have talked to you like that." He sighed, pressing his forehead tighter into the door. "I know," he said. "I know, I'm sorry. She just... she knows how to press my buttons. That's her something."

Belle's hand appeared at his cheek, turning her to face him. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to the red mark on his forehead.

"Papa!" Bae called, five year old innocence and unaware of the tension. "I drawed a Raptor!"

"That's wonderful," Gold called, eyes on Belle. He bent, kissing her quickly. "What would I do without you?" he murmured, heading into the living room. "Let's see that Raptor. Look at that! Definitely going on the fridge. What do you think, Belle?"

Belle smiled, taking the picture from Bae, kissing him noisily on the cheek. "Absolutely."

* * *

**Note:** First, I am floored by the positive response to the note and my decision not to include smut in this story. Thank you all so much. Second, I'm sorry if I came off as rude in the note, but please consider the fact that I posted the note because I was deleting up to four reviews a day for two weeks, and was also getting PMs from people that later had to be blocked. Third, the people who politely asked about smut or sent me an inquiry that wasn't a demand, that note was not aimed at you in any way. It was meant for the people who sent the "this is boring with smut" "you'd better put smut in a later chapter or I wasted good time reading this" reviews/messages.

Fourth. When I said rude messages would not be tolerated, I meant that they _would not be tolerated_. I don't care if you saw "only three rude reviews" or if you had issues with a previous author and drama from the authors notes. You sent me a rude message. You will not be tolerated. If the note bothers you, ignore it and scroll past it, but it stays. Telling me that a friend of yours won't be reading the story anymore, or that you won't be either isn't a way to get what you want. I had to do something about the reviews and messages without replying individually to each one. If me defending myself is enough to make you quit reading a story, then I don't want you reading it in the first place. Anyone else who messages me saying these things will be blocked from messaging me as well as reviewing any of my stories.

And despite your digs to the contrary, I was not digging for reviews. I just wanted the hate to stop.

Hopefully this will be the last long note I have to post. I'm sorry I had to add on to the past two chapters, but things had to be said. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

They were sneaking around as best they could, but Bae found out about his birthday party anyway. He seemed to have a sixth sense about it, and would appear should someone even mention the work 'cake'.

Gold couldn't believe it. His son was six years old already. Where had the time gone? Who gave it permission to go so fast in the first place? He wasn't quite done with the morning pounces, the impromptu snuggles, the begging for mac and cheese every other day. Bae still did all of those things, of course, but the mere fact that he was six now seemed to drive home the point that soon all of that would be over.

Belle had her hands full keeping him from having a mental breakdown every time they talked about the party.

"I think Emma is more excited than Bae. She can't wait for the party," Mary Margaret admitted over the phone. "Richard goes over the top every year, and invites Bae's entire class, but it's so much fun. Last year he had one of those bounce houses. We almost never got Emma out of it."

Belle laughed, checking her watch. She still had twenty minutes left on her lunch- Whale had told her to take an extra fifteen if she wanted, to thank her for coming in an hour early, but she wanted to check on a few people before she dove back into the paperwork sitting at her station- but she felt she'd been neglecting her friends lately.

Ruby was busy with her show. Opening night had brought down the house, and the critiques had smiled throughout the entire thing. Of course, they usually did with Jefferson Hatter (Ruby had dubbed him Mad Hatter the last time she'd worked with him, and it had stuck ever since), but Ruby had gotten a two page mention in the newspaper. Even the online reviews were glowing. Ruby was beside herself with joy. The phone was ringing off the hook, offers for the up and coming ballerina, more job opportunities than she'd ever had.

Mary Margaret and Belle were happy for their friend, but Ruby's newfound fame meant they were on their own herding Bae and Emma while birthday party plans took shape.

"What's the theme this year?" Mary Margaret asked. "Emma, sit on the stool! If I catch you standing on it again, you're going in time out."

Belle felt the wide, foolish smile and did nothing to stop it. "Superheroes," she said, laughing. "It's a superhero themed party."

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Mary Margaret took that in. Then: "That," she said, "is adorable. Oh my god, Belle. You're going to be the main attraction."

Belle didn't doubt that for a second, but that reminded her why she'd called Mary Margaret in the first place. "Have you got any of that red material left over?" she asked. "From when you were making Emma that apron?" Emma had gone through a phase where she had to do everything that Mommy did, and that meant an apron that matched Mommy's cooking apron exactly.

"If you mean the apron that I horribly botched and then had to ask Richard to make, then yes. At least, I think I do."

Belle grinned, her plans flaring to life in her mind. "Could I have about a yard of it? I have to make Bae's birthday gift."

* * *

Gold watched in amusement as Belle juggled her laundry basket, a small bag that looked suspiciously like a sewing kit, and what appeared to be three feet of deep red material that looked vaguely familiar.

"What on earth..." he started, before shaking his head and shutting the door behind her. "I don't want to know, do I?"

With a grunt, Belle managed to lift everything onto the kitchen table. "The laundry basket is so I can take my dirty clothes home. I'm running out of clean scrubs. I brought half of what I have left over, since I'm nearly always here when work calls." She paused, glancing at him. "I'm starting to think Whale knows when I'm over here, and calls me just to annoy me."

Gold nodded. "It certainly seems that way," he agreed. "I could arrange for him to get transferred," he offered, half serious. "Get you a new boss who doesn't call you in every day." And sometimes twice a day.

Belle waved a dismissive hand at him. "Oh, don't be dramatic. Victor's a great doctor. We're just understaffed. Besides, I'm managing my loan repayments with all the hours, so it's not all bad." Barely managing, she added mentally. Belle could only hope her interest rates stayed down for the time being, otherwise she was thoroughly screwed in the near future.

But she wasn't thinking about that.

"You know, you could do laundry here. I have a fully functioning laundry room and everything."

Belle paused amid digging through her basket. Gold could see it hadn't even occurred to her to ask him, but that was Belle. She was always willing to help others- babysitting Emma, taking Bae to play when Gold really needed to get something done, putting up with Ruby's recital music blasting at odd hours- but she never thought to ask for help herself.

Gold suddenly found himself with an armful of Belle. "Thank you," she sighed, breath gusting across his ear. "Our washer busted again and I really did not want to go to the laundry mat."

He remembered laundry mats. He remembered that he hated them. Small, cranky children with their sticky hands all over everything, parents uninterested in what their children got into. Overly hot, overly crowded, with machines that ate quarters and never gave change. Ten dollars to wash and dry two loads of clothes, and it almost didn't seem worth it.

He kissed Belle's temple. "Feel free to use my machines any time you want," he offered. "I won't subject you to the dreariness that is the laundry mat."

She laughed, peeling away from him to rifle through the rest of her stuff. Curious, Gold came closer, peering closely at the red fabric resting on the table.

Upstairs in his room, Bae jumped from his bed onto the floor, landing feet first with a heavy thud that made the light fixture on the ceiling sway a bit above their heads. Gold glanced up at it, rolling his eyes. Belle let out a startled laugh. Small children made an awful lot of noise without even trying. When Bae jumped again, Gold went to the base of the stairs.

"Bae, what have I told you about jumping off your bed?" he called.

"Sorry Papa!" Bae called back. "Papa! Can we have pizza for dinner? Please Papa? Please?"

Gold sighed. Bae was in a pizza phase, and he blamed David. They'd all gone to dinner to celebrate Ruby's good fortune and talent, and pizza was closest, and the only thing everyone could eat without much pouting (Emma hated mushrooms and anything even remotely spicy, Bae was allergic to cayenne pepper). Pizza was a special treat for both children, and now Bae didn't want anything else.

At least he wasn't begging for macaroni again. A little variety wouldn't hurt, even if it was pizza.

"If you clean your room, I'll think about it."

There were two thumps in rapid succession, the sound one would hear if someone was jumping up and down in excitement. "Okay!" Bae agreed quickly.

Gold shook his head. "That boy, I swear," he said, but it was a fond protest.

"At least he's cleaning his room."

"By cleaning, you must mean 'shoving everything off his floor and into his closet'."

"Is there any other way?"

Belle unfolded the fabric, laying it across the table to study it, and suddenly Gold knew where he'd seen it before. He reached out, feeling the material between his fingers. "I made Emma an apron out of this," he said with a grin. "She destroyed it within two months. I'm not entirely certain how."

"She's Emma," Belle answered. "Plus, she's five. How do five-year-olds do anything?"

"True enough. But it begs the question- what are you doing with all this?"

Belle glanced behind up, gaze trailing up the stairs. She could hear Bae shuffling around above her, scooting things around. She lowered her voice to admit her plans. "I'm going to make Bae a cape."

Gold felt the air leave his lungs.

"He's so into superheroes right now," Belle continued, unaware that he'd forgotten how to breathe. "And his party tomorrow is superhero themed. Plus he still thinks I have a cape and a mask, so I thought I'd make him his own cape. He still has that mask you made him, right? I know it's red, so I'm hoping the colors match." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Do you have any yellow fabric? We could make him the Superman S to pin on his shirt."

"Superman," Gold managed, head spinning, heart pounding.

"Bae's favorite superhero," Belle said with a grin, digging scissors out of her sewing kit and beginning to trim the fabric. "It's a good thing his favorite color is red. Do you have his measurements? I don't want to make this too small."

She knew Bae's favorite superhero, his favorite color. She'd thrown herself into the party plans, hunting for decorations like a woman possessed, determined to get everything just right for Bae's big day. She'd even baked a cake (though how she found time for that, he had no idea, but it was sitting in the fridge, iced and waiting). Mary Margaret had done the decorative icing, the bright onomatopoeias- Pow! and Bam! and the like- around the corners, but it was Belle's loopy handwriting that lovingly spelled out Happy Birthday Baelfire.

And she'd personally mailed out Milah's invitation.

Gold could scarcely breathe, standing before this amazing woman.

"Yes," he eventually sputtered. "I'll go get the measurements."

He went into his spare room turned sewing room (all things sharp and pointy were up high were Bae couldn't get them, but that didn't stop him from trying), hunting yellow fabric and the pattern he'd found online for the symbolic S Bae loved so much.

And then he went back into the kitchen and helped his girlfriend make his son his very own superhero cape.

* * *

There wasn't a bounce house this year, but there was a dunk tank (with David inside), an apple bobbing game, and all manner of superhero themed prizes to be won from the many games littering the back yard. Emma declared the party 'the best one ever' and charged off to pin the cape on superman.

Bae had a blast. August had trailed quietly after him, shyly sticking to the sidelines at the beginning. Mary Margaret had introduced them to August's father, an elderly gentleman named Marco, who was more than happy to let August come play whenever Gold approved.

"I adopted my boy when he was a baby," Marco said, sipping his punch. "He is shy, but once he opens up, he is a chatterbox."

Mary Margaret sighed. "I wish Emma was shy. That girl has never met a stranger in her life."

Gold shared her pain, and said as much.

Ruby sputtered suddenly into her drink, laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. She managed to point, and they turned just in time to see August hurl the baseball (painted Superman red of course) square onto the dunk tank target, sending David into the water below.

Mary Margaret immediately whipped out her phone and took several photos in rapid succession. "These are so going online," she declared, laughing and shrieking when her husband splashed her.

"Daddy, you're all wet!"

"August that was awesome!" Bae declared. "Can you do it again?"

"I wanna do it!"

"It's _my_ birthday," Bae protested, holding the ball away from Emma.

Emma pouted, jumping to try and grab the baseball. "But he's _my_ Daddy. Let me do it!"

"Parent intervention needed!" Ruby called, and Mary Margaret and Richard swooped in to seperate their children.

The cake was brought out shortly after David's swimming adventure, Belle carefully balancing the large sugary thing, the candles blowing in the wind. Bae made sure to blow out all six, grinning wide up at Papa, who smiled back (Mary Margaret snapped a picture of that too, and made a mental note to print it off first thing).

And then Bae opened his gifts, and everything else was promptly forgotten.

"Superman!" He yelled happily, holding up the action figure doll David had gotten him.

Gold glanced at his (still dripping) friend. "No small parts, I promise. The cape is real fabric though, so watch out for rips."

Belle's gift was last, and if she had to do it all over again, pricking her fingers, nearly cutting her fingernail with the scissors, the gash on her hand from the seam ripper, she would in a heartbeat just to see that look on his face again.

"A cape! I have a cape! It's just like Superman's, Papa look I have a cape!" He surged to his feet, barely touching the ground as he launched himself into Belle's arms. "Thank you Belle! Thank you, thank you, thank you! We can fight crime together! Is it like your cape? Papa, look!" He turned, wiggling on the spot. "Can I wear it? Please Belle?"

Laughing, Belle managed to tie the cape around his shoulders before he took off, running a circle around the tables. The cape billowed behind him, a red flash in the sunlight, flapping enthusiastically as he ran. He crashed back into Belle, hugging her tight.

"This is awesome! Thank you Belle!" He nuzzled his cheek against her stomach, fingers bunched in the fabric of her shirt.

And then Gold's world stopped.

"I love you, Belle," he said, grinning up at her.

And his heart just swelled.

"I love you too, Bae."

And nothing could dim his smile for the rest of the day, not even Milah's late arrival, claiming the time was written wrong on her invitation, or her sideways remarks about Belle's age, because although Milah was Bae's mother, and she always would be, Belle was everything she wasn't, and it was exactly what Bae needed.

It was exactly what they both needed, and somehow, though Gold still wasn't sure how, it was exactly what they had.


	14. Chapter 14

Special thank you to ticktockdearie, Ann, Leslie, roberre, Sarah, and stormywithachance. They've helped me with a big financial issue. Thank you :)

* * *

"So the ex-wife's a bitch."

Belle sighed and gave Ruby a look. The other woman shrugged, unbothered by the disturbingly mom-like stare Belle had perfected recently.

"I know your life motto is to love all people and all that, but a bitch is a bitch." She took a sip of wine, brushing dust from the mantle. They were waiting on Mary Margaret, David, and Richard to arrive and had spent the day cleaning in preparation. (They'd both been very busy, Ruby with her show- now closed- and Belle with work, and the apartment had gotten dusty and stale in their absences.) "I mean, what else would you call someone who points out an age gap when she has one of her own?"

"Someone who is uncomfortable in their own life and feels the need to lash out. Or her name. Milah. That's what _I_ call her," Belle said. She stacked up the magazines from the coffee table. "Do you need to keep any of these?"

"Nah, toss them." Ruby glanced at the clock, peering into the oven to check on the chicken. "You can call her that all you want, but bitch still has my vote." She snatched the oven mitts from the counter- bright pink mitts with the bones of the arm printed on them. "Seriously though, she like never wants her kid. To me, that's bitchy. The turkey's done too," she announced.

"Or she's got something else going on," Belle tried, stirring the gravy. "We don't know her situation. Maybe something's wrong and she doesn't want to drag Bae into it. And Bae is with her right now."

"Are you seriously defending the woman who makes Bae cry and Richard burst a blood vessel on a regular basis?"

Belle bit her lip. "I'm not _defending_ her, I'm just saying we don't have the whole story- not even Richard does."

Ruby dropped the chicken with a clatter, snatching up the utensils. "You're too damn nice for your own good," she muttered. "Someone could punch you and you would probably say they were just having a bad day. Oh wait, you've done that."

Belle snorted.

"Whatever, miss goody-goody. You didn't even yell at the loan people when they raised your interest rates again. Which reminds me, you got some mail. I put it in your room."

Belle sighed. "It's probably more bills. Why did I take out so many loans for school?"

"Because otherwise you couldn't afford your education."

"Right. And I love my job and living in the States, even though it cost me a small fortune to move here."

"Honey, I've seen your payments. There's nothing small about them. Okay we've got half an hour before everyone arrives and everything is done. So." Ruby grabbed Belle by the arm, dragging her into the living room. She dropped her off at the couch, snagging the wine bottle to top off both their glasses.

Belle wasn't sure she liked where this was going. Ruby had That Look.

That Look often meant something had either happened, was happening, or was about to happen, and Belle would either be cleaning up the mess or caught in the middle of it. It lead to some funny stories, but considering that they had just finished cooking Thanksgiving dinner (even though it was technically two days after), Belle didn't want anything to happen. Not that Ruby ever took no for an answer, but she could flee if she really had to. Hopefully.

"So?" she asked, taking a cautious sip of her wine.

"Oh come on, you know I have to pry. You and Richard have been dating for eight months now. I have questions!"

"Oh boy." Belle took a large gulp of the wine.

"Oh yes." Ruby situated herself beside Belle on the couch, tucking her long legs under her. "Come on, you know I gotta ask. I don't have to try and see if he's good enough for you- that's the benefit of me knowing him beforehand. Rough around the edges, but good, so we can skip all of those questions."

Belle wasn't sure she wanted know what those questions were anyways, so she was more than happy to skip them.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to be questioned until their guests arrived. Really, it was a miracle she'd gotten this long without an intervention from David, Ruby, Mary Margaret, or all three at once (though according to Richard, David did stop by the shop all the time to subtly inquire about things, but at least he knew when to back off... or when to ply Richard with alcohol to get his answers).

"What do you want to know?"

Ruby's grin was big enough to be frightening.

"Dates?" she asked. It was a safe question, a way to ease their way into the more personal and embarrassing ones.

"Fun," Belle said immediately. "We talk, we laugh, we do something different every time. Sometimes we take Bae, sometimes Ashley Boyd watches him- you know her, don't you? She's such a sweet girl."

"Yeah, she's actually a fan of my show. But we're not changing the subject."

"Is that what we were doing?"

"Bae. Adorable. Any issues there?"

Belle's grin was answer enough. "No. I love that little boy. He's so energetic and happy. I still love him when he throws tantrums. Or food." She laughed. "He still thinks I'm a superhero, cape and all. He's convinced I have a secret lair, like the Batcave, or the Fortress of Solitude."

"I'm not sure I know what those are, but moving on." Ruby bounced a bit on her knees. "That's adorable by the way. I saw them in town the other day, at the store. Bae was wearing that cape you made him."

Belle brightened. "He was?"

"Yeah, _so_ cute." She did a time check. Twenty minutes, if no one was early. And considering that the guests had small children that they had to drop off/ find babysitters for, she wasn't worried. But better safe than sorry.

The Bitch- as Ruby had christened Milah- had Bae for Thanksgiving Break this year. Unwilling to let Richard brood alone in his house on what was supposed to be a joyful holiday, Ruby had ambushed him at the store and told him when to show up (she was really good at not taking no for an answer). Belle had been ecstatic, and so rather than their usual tradition of just the two of them and whatever they could grab from the store, they were having a proper Thanksgiving feast.

Mary Margaret and David were both relieved they didn't have to cook more than a dessert or two, and Emma was off at the sitter's, having already had a (however strained) family dinner with David's parents and another with Mary Margaret's great-aunt. She was staying the night at a friend's house later anyways, so it was better to just let her stay home and have her fun.

Belle had remembered she loved to cook, when she had the time, and her stuffing came out golden brown and just right. Ruby kept stealing bites from it as she tossed the salad and buttered the rolls to stick into the oven.

But now the cooking was done, they were sipping wine, and Ruby still had That Look.

"You know I love you."

"Uh-oh."

"Belle." And that was a wolfish grin if Belle had ever seen one. "Come on, really, you know what I'm asking."

"Do I?"

"Belle, my darling, my one true love... how's your sex life? And I know you're getting some, miss bedhead, so don't even think about avoiding the question."

For the first time in her life, Belle wished her pager would go off. She was technically on call for work, but Whale (who'd turned down the invitation to dinner due to the schedule) had sworn to not call her unless someone was on fire.

Considering it was Thanksgiving week, Belle had her scrubs laid out, just in case.

"You're lucky I love you," she told Ruby, who beamed.

"I know. But I also know you're probably actually dying to talk to someone about it, because that grin you've got going is not the grin of someone who is disappointed or bored in the bedroom." She nudged Belle with her shoulder. "Let 'er rip. I'm all ears."

Of that, Belle had no doubt.

But Ruby was right, of course. She would love to gush about Richard to someone. Because he was wonderful, and sweet, and charming. He had an odd sense of humor, but it went with her own, and he constantly suggested a book for her to read rather than asking her how she could read so much. He worked too much and so did she, and he had a tendency to be downright mean to people who asked for special treatment, but when he loved someone, he gave himself entirely to them.

He opened his heart, his home, his life to the people he cared about. Belle knew, without a doubt, that Richard was the reason David and Mary Margaret's mortgage had been paid off, that Emma had a college fund fueled by savings bonds he got every year (that the Nolans were unaware of). He didn't brag about the payments. No, he was quiet in his generosity, simply giving and moving on.

Ashley Boyd was a prime example. She'd been babysitting Bae for years, and had fallen completely in love with the boy (because it was impossible to do otherwise). She was fresh out of her first year of college, and due to an unplanned pregnancy, was taking a year off to prepare. No one wanted to hire a pregnant woman to work for them, since they'd just have to give her maternity leave later, and that left Ashley just barely scraping by to pay for future expenses.

Richard had hired her to clean Rumpled Lace after hours, and once a week his house as well. A slew of new cases had left him without the time to take care of little things like that, and he needed someone who could work odd hours that would be able to stay out of his way.

At least, that's what he'd said when he'd offered Ashley the position.

And Belle knew that, at Ashley's request, he was quietly looking into adoption agencies and applications, in case something should happen. The baby's father was young as well, and scrambling to find a house without _his_ father, who didn't approve, finding out. Belle didn't need to ask to know Richard was helping him out as well (because, being Richard, he also owned several properties that he rented out, so naturally he could lend a hand there).

He was charging for the service, but Ashley was paying for it by watching Bae for free. The fact that both she and Bae loved spending time together was, in his words, just a happy bonus.

Upon hearing all of this, Ruby, wide-eyed, whistled low. "Damn, Belle. I had no idea how much he did. I mean, I knew he didn't take pro-bono cases, but considering how much else he does..." She smiled. "He's a really good guy, and I know he's been through a lot of shit in the past- and on that note if you ever want to know something about that past, just get David drunk- but he's really turned himself around. And that's good and everything, but you still didn't answer the question."

With the kind of luck and timing that could only happen once in a lifetime, the doorbell rang.

Belle sprang up to answer it, Ruby climbing to her feet after her.

"You won't escape that easily! I'll never give up- never!"

* * *

Mary Margaret and Belle stood side-by-side, hands on hips, amused smiles on their faces, and watched their respective significant others stagger around the living room, collapsing onto the couch in a fit of breathless laughter.

"We should have stopped them when we had the chance," Mary Margaret sighed, eyeing the two empty bottles of wine. She gestured to the six pack of beer resting on the counter. "I knew he was trying to smuggle something in, but I didn't know what."

Belle watched Richard throw his head back and laugh at something David said. David was telling a story, gesturing wildly, Ruby red faced with laughter on his other side.

She snagged the last beer and popped the top. "I didn't expect anything else," she laughed, taking a swig. "But a tipsy Richard, that's new. I know it takes a lot to get him drunk."

Mary Margaret turned, counting the wine glasses on the table. "Well they both had, what, two beers each and god knows how many glasses of wine? And then whatever that was that mixed Ruby... wait." Mary Margaret paused, trying to sort out the jumble of words in her head. "What Ruby mixed," she said slowly. "What did Ruby mix?"

"Whatever it was," Belle said carefully, "it was strong. And it's starting to hit us all." Her tongue felt heavy and thick. She grinned, making her way over to Richard, plopping down next to him.

"Fantastic dinner," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "And that concoction you made." He pointed somewhere over Ruby's shoulder. "That was bloody amazing. I cannae remember a better swill."

David found that utterly amusing, and laughed wildly.

"James David Nolan, how much have you had?" Mary Margaret sounded sober enough, but the small staggered step that landed her in her husband's lap gave her away.

"Not nearly as much as Richard Henry Gold did," Belle guessed. She shrieked, nearly falling off the couch when Richard suddenly tickled her ribs.

Ruby burst out laughing, rolling onto the floor to lay on the rug. "You guys are really funny when I'm drunk." She began to climb to her feet. "I should bet to ged. Bed to get. Whatever. You know what I meant."

"Bed," Belle sighed happily. "Sounds wonderful."

"Mmm," Richard agreed, his voice vibrating in her ear. He pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple, his hand roaming down her back. "I should probably head there before I embarrass meself."

"You sound," David announced, staggering to his feet, "really Scottish."

"How terrible. I should be flogged for sounding like my homeland."

David giggled. Actually giggled.

Mary Margaret directed him towards the guest room. "And that's our cue for bed."

David tried to turn around and look at his wife and barely managed to avoid running into the kitchen table. "You're coming too?" he asked.

"Yes, promise. We have to get to the bedroom, David. Keep walking. Aim straight ahead. The door keeps moving but I know that's where it is."

Belle helped Richard stand, laughing when he draped himself over her. "Oh, come on now, you can walk." But she returned the kiss, allowed herself to be walked backward to her room. "Hands, Richard."

"I've got two of them."

"Yes, and they should both be kept to themselves for the moment," she murmured, taking him by one of his two hands and leading him to her room.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you're right there?" Richard complained, dropping onto the bed. "I cannae help it. You're too beautiful, too smart. You're so smart and wonderful, Belle."

Richard grabbed her around the waist, resting his forehead against her collar bone. He breathed deeply, feeling like he should say these things, because they were important, and Belle should know. She should know how wonderful she was, how amazing, and how much he cared about her.

Belle _mattered_.

"How did I get so lucky?" he whispered.

Belle blinked hard, running her fingers through his hair to tilt his head back. "I ask myself that every day," she whispered back.

He kissed her, slow and long, shifting more onto the bed to hold her. He held her all night, body pressed against hers, skin against skin, and Belle felt the low, simmering burn begin in her heart. And acknowledged that she was about to fall, deeply.

She was ready to let herself take that fall, that plunge.

Her heart swelled, eyes filling as she realized she'd already begun, that step taken before she'd been aware. But it was a step that could not be controlled.

And so Belle let herself fall.


	15. Chapter 15

Sitting in a jail cell was not how Gold had wanted to ring in the new year. He was fairly certain no one would _chose_ to sit in an eight-by-eight block of concrete and bars while the rest of the world celebrated and drank and laughed. While they held their better halves and kissed them at midnight.

He was, however, no stranger to jail, and certainly no stranger to bar fights. He'd spent a large portion of his youth sitting in similar, and far more dirty cells just like the one he was currently stewing in, nursing his unhappy knuckles (also not new).

Beating people with his cane was new though.

It was surprisingly effective.

And it was all that goddamn dress's fault.

Actually, he was pretty sure it was technically that bastard Keith's fault, but the dress had apparently played a large part as well, and as he was the one currently sitting in jail, he could blame whoever he liked. Because he knew that it wasn't anyone's fault but his, really. It was always his fault.

It didn't matter that Belle had a bruise on her face, or that her new dress was ripped, or that she had gone from annoyed to angry to scared to nearly hysterical in less than fifteen minutes. It didn't matter that Gold had stopped anything from happening. It didn't matter that Belle and Ruby had managed to pull him off Keith in time. It didn't even matter that David was working frantically to get Gold home.

What mattered was that Gold had turned down a path he'd sworn was long behind him.

And he'd very nearly killed a man.

He'd _wanted_ to hurt him, and when he was hurt and it wasn't enough, Gold had wanted him dead for thinking he could shove Belle into a wall. For daring to say she'd been _asking_ for it because her dress- the dress he'd made her, the dress he'd designed and sewn and given to her- was short.

Now Keith was in the hospital, Belle was god knows where (with Ruby at least), and Gold was in jail.

Alternatively, he could also probably blame Mrs. Ellicott- _Miss_ Ellicott, if you please, the useless husband was now broke and gone from her life. She'd breezed into the shop, too much leg and makeup and perfume, hands determined to touch him when he did not want to be touched.

She'd wanted Belle's dress, hanging proudly on the dummy, just waiting for her.

"Blue is so in right now, the color is just right even if it is a bit long, but you can fix that, can't you? I just love the sweetheart neckline, my girls will be front and center."

"It's not for sale."

Miss Ellicott, if you please (and he did not please), had laughed, sliding her hand up his arm. "Anything is for sale," she purred. "If the price is right."

And then, too quick for him to run (and yes, he was running, because, dammit, he couldn't very well hit a customer), she'd stretched onto her tiptoes in those ridiculous four inch heels she'd worn in December, and very nearly caught his mouth with hers.

And then, naturally, because that was the way his life worked, Belle walked in.

"Belle." Gold flinched away from Miss Ellicott's wandering hands, nearly running into the dress rack at his back. "Hey-"

She'd frozen in the doorway, one hand holding the door open behind her, the cold wind blowing into the store and everything stopped and the wind worked its way down his throat to freeze in his stomach, and endless pit of cold and fear swirling in his gut.

"Richard, I-"

He tried to speak around the ice crawling up his throat but couldn't manage more than: "Belle, we... she was..." and he felt like he should be explaining himself but he didn't know what he should be explaining (and he was very aware of the urge to throw himself at her feet and apologize).

"We're a bit busy. Run along now."

The ice melted into cold fury. How dare she.

Gold grabbed Miss Ellicott's wrists, shoving them off and away. He stepped back, staggering and stumbling in his escape because he'd dropped his cane in shock, catching himself on a mannequin. The arm popped off, leaving him standing away from the two women, both watching him with gazes he did not like, with a plastic arm in his hand.

"Get out," he ordered.

Miss Ellicott smiled. "Yes sweetie, why don't you-"

"_You_," Gold interrupted. "Get out of my shop."

She didn't move, standing still, in his shop, an unsure smile spreading across her face. "Now, Mr. Gold," she started. She stepped closer.

"_OUT!_" he roared, throwing the plastic arm. It landed with a dull thud at her feet. "And don't you dare come back here, not ever."

Belle was going to leave, he was sure of it, but he wanted that wretched woman _out_ of his shop, away from him and Belle so he could fix what she'd tried to ruin.

How could Miss Ellicott possibly think, even for a moment, that he would ever chose someone like her over Belle? That he'd chose _anyone_ over Belle? Belle was everything. Belle was perfect. More than he deserved, the second chance he never thought he'd get, not for a single second. Belle was-

-staying.

Watching Miss Ellicott storm out the door, yelling about sexual harassment and perverted old men who weren't that attractive anyway.

Shutting the door tightly, locking it. Flipping the sign to closed and pulling the blind down, effectively blocking the outside world.

She was probably going to murder him.

Gold stood perfectly still, standing awkwardly on the sales floor, boxed in by a rack of dresses and a one-armed mannequin. He waited as Belle made her way to him, unsure of what to do or say, but knowing he should stay and think of something. He was a lawyer, dammit. He'd gone to school for years to be able to argue with people. He was a professional arguer.

Miss Ellicott had kissed him- had _tried_ to kiss him. Her mouth had (thankfully) never touched his. Yes, she'd touched him, hands running up his arms and once over his chest (and down his back towards his ass but he was not about to mention that- lawyers were good at omission), but that wasn't exactly a crime...

Yeah, Belle was going to kill him.

Well, it wasn't like he could run.

He'd had a decent life.

Gold swallowed. "Belle-"

Belle grabbed his lapels, yanked him down to her level, and kissed him hard enough to make him stagger into and knock over the mannequin, the dress rack, and an innocent dressmaker's dummy standing in the corner.

"Belle-" he tried, but she shook her head, burying her face in his chest. Afraid she would cry, and knowing he deserved to see the tears, Gold dared to wrap his arms around her, his cheek resting on her hair sure she was about to slap him or stab him with a high heel. "Oh, sweetheart."

Her shoulders began to shake.

She was... laughing?

"Belle?"

"Your _face_," she giggled.

"My... my face?"

"You looked like you weren't sure if you were going to run, or hit her, or burst into flames when I walked in."

Gold tried to wrap his head around the fact that not only was Belle laughing at him, she was _not_ going to murder him and dump his body in a swamp somewhere. She didn't even seem to be angry with him.

Why _wasn't_ she angry with him?

Apologizes, assurances, and explinations all tripped on his tongue. "Belle, I didn't- I would never-"

"Oh, I know. You were disgusted and horrified, and I was watching the whole time."

"You were?"

She nodded. "If I had come in earlier I would have caused a scene," she admitted sheepishly (and that was something he'd like to see. Belle in a temper was a sight indeed). "I was waiting for her to leave so I wouldn't, but when she tried to grab your butt, I decided to come inside and make the point that you were taken." She giggled again. "I've never seen someone flinch so hard before."

Gold just stared at her.

"Oh, this is beautiful," Belle gasped, standing the dummy upright. "This blue, it's amazing. Is this what you've been working on in the back?"

It was an amazing dress, though shorter than he normally made, it would hit Belle a few inches above her knee. The powder blue was soft, but not understated, the shine from the silk making it daring without being tacky. Asymmetrical, a new thing for him, with a sweetheart neckline, and a red belt around the waist.

Gold found his voice, buried somewhere under his shock and the inkling that his world was still upside down. "It's yours. If you'll have it."

Belle gaped at him, fingers inches from the fabric. "You... you made me a dress?"

Off-balance, and still uneasy, Gold bent to gather his cane. "I'd hoped to have it done in time to call it your Christmas gift, but the vision eluded me until a few days ago."

"This is mine? You made this for me?" And she grabbed him and kissed him again, leaving him dizzy and more uncertain of the world. "Thank you. Oh my god, thank you. It's wonderful. I'll wear it tonight," she decided, kissing him again.

"Tonight?"

"Ruby invited us to this club for a New Year's party. After what just happened, I think you could use a drink." Her mouth turned down, and Gold waited for the explosion, the decision that she actually was angry with him after all. "And since my interest rates went up on two of my loans, I'm in need of a drink myself."

Alcohol. Drinking. Belle in that dress. Yes. Yes, that was exactly what he needed.

"What time is the party?"

* * *

The hem of the dress hit just above her scraped knees. Her hair had half fallen out of the pretty up-do she'd spent twenty minutes on, the curls obstructing the darkening bruise on her jaw, but he knew it was there.

David saw her first, appearing in the dingy hallway just as the clock chimed midnight and the people began to cheer.

"Belle! Are you alright?"

She melted into the hug for a brief second, leaning into David and trying not to cry. "Yeah. I'm okay." She pretended not to sniffle, and David pretended not to hear, leading her quietly to Gold's cell.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice cracking. (She was shaking and bruised and scraped and asking if he was okay and he wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms and hold her until she smiled again.)

"Never better. Spent some time in here in my twenties. I love what they've done with the place."

She smiled.

"When can we go home?" Belle asked.

David blew out a breath. "Keith wanted to press charges-" He held up a hand at Gold's growl. "I told him that if he didn't, then there would be no charges against him."

"That's not acceptable."

David scrubbed a hand over his face. "Richard, you beat a man in the alley with your cane. That's illegal no matter how you spin it."

Richard surged to his feet, gripping the bars with white knuckles and wild eyes. "He shoved Belle into the wall after harassing her all night. He _hurt_ her, bruised her, because she wouldn't go home with him. If I so much as see him again, my cane will be the least of his worries."

Belle reached through the bars to grip his hand. Hers was shaking, her fingers cold. The fire in him cooled slightly at the sight of her exhaustion.

"And as Sheriff, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." David unlocked the door. "Because if I didn't hear it, then there's no charges all around, and everyone gets to go home tonight."

Belle fell into his arms as soon as he stepped out. "Let's just go home," she whispered. "Please. I want to go home."

Part of David melted at the way Richard clung to Belle. Part of him wanted to meet Keith in another dark alley and shove _him_ up against a wall. A small part of him reminded himself that he still had to go and stop his wife from hunting Keith down herself, because arresting your own wife is not fun.

"Okay," Richard said on a sigh. "Okay. Home it is. Oh, my Belle. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

He kept his arm around her the entire way home, as much to keep his balance (his cane was laying broken behind the bar) as to keep her close, but once the door close behind him, he released her.

Stepped away.

"Are you... are you cold?"

Belle hugged her arms. "I'm imagining it. It's shock. I'm fine."

Unsteady on his feet, heart pounding too hard in his chest, Gold sank heavily into a chair. He knew what he had to do, what he should do. It needed to be done, and quickly. Like ripping a band-aid off a still open wound, it would hurt, and it would hurt for a long time.

But he had to.

"Belle...I think we should... you should go."

He couldn't look at her.

"Go?"

"You must leave." He kept his gaze on his hands. There was blood on those hands. There would always be blood on those hands.

Those hands were monster hands, beast hands, and despite the fairytales, beauties and beasts did not belong together.

"Why?"

Gold cradled his forehead in his hand so she wouldn't see the pain in his eyes. It would be better to convince her he didn't want her, to make her think he didn't care about her, but he couldn't make himself form the lie.

"I nearly killed a man tonight," he said quietly, the words loud in the silent house. "It's not the first time I've beaten a man that badly. I hurt people, Belle. It's what I do." He didn't dare look at her, not even once. "I'll hurt you too."

"So you're sending me away."

"I'm protecting you," he insisted.

"From what?" she demanded.

"From _me_," he shouted, standing so quickly the chair fell to the floor. "I'll only give you pain. Jesus, Belle, I almost killed a man tonight because he touched you. I lost control, and it's dangerous when I do. I'm a monster, Belle. I can't... Don't let me hurt you. And I will. I will hurt you. I always hurt the people I love."

The last word hung in the air between them.

Belle's face crumpled. "Richard," she breathed, stepping closer.

"Oh _god_, Belle, I do love you. I love you so much it terrifies me, but I can't... I can't-"

She reached out, her fingertips brushing his. "Richard."

He sobbed her name in what might have been an oath or a prayer, yanking her into his arms. He kissed her desperately, staggering back against the kitchen counter to take the weight off his leg. Belle untangled her arms from his waist and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him down to control the kiss.

He tasted tears, unsure if they were his or hers, if those breathy sobs were hers or his, if that was his heart pounding or hers, because he could feel her, he could feel every inch of her against him, bare beneath the silk as he peeled it away and banished her tears with kisses, with soft words, garbled confessions and pleas.

And Belle looked at him in the moonlight, and kissed the trails his tears had left, brushing her lips softly over his split knuckles, trailing her fingertips over his skin. And she breathed out her own confession, her own plea, three words that were both.

"I love you."

He wanted to dismiss the words, because it couldn't be, she couldn't really- no. No, it couldn't be. The world didn't work like that, and people like Richard Gold didn't get second chances with people like Belle French.

People like Belle French didn't fall in love with people like Richard Gold.

He dipped his head, kissing her softly to swallow the words, but she murmured them against his skin, gasping them into the night as he loved her.

"I love you. I love you."

"Belle..."

"I love you."

As she sprawled against his chest, her head resting on his pounding heart, Gold wondered how he could have ever gotten this lucky. Because Belle would never lie to him. She said she loved him because she believed she did.

One day that would change.

But for now, Gold accepted the words. He returned her kisses, and begged something he'd never asked of anyone before.

"Please," he whispered. "Please stay."

And she smiled at him, ethereal against the sunrise. And she promised him.

"Forever."


	16. Chapter 16

Gold was nervous. He had a very important question for a very important person, and he wasn't quite sure how to word it. It was a delicate situation to be sure, but he was confident he could swing this to work in everyone's favor. If he was careful. And very, very lucky, something he had never been before but seemed to be lately.

Matters of the heart were tricky things after all, something he knew better than anyone.

David seemed all for it (because he was David, and he liked to meddle just as much, if not more than, Mary Margaret), but he didn't really have a say in the matter. Though Gold was glad he approved, because that did make things easier. It was bad enough when a girl's friends didn't approve of the guy she was dating, but a mutual friend of them both? That could spell disaster.

But David did approve, and was now at work, patrolling the streets of Boston to keep them all safe, and Gold was left alone to tackle the issue at hand.

He wanted Belle to move in with him.

It made sense to him (which of course meant nothing really because all sorts of things made sense to him that didn't to anyone else). He and Belle had been dating for almost a year- eleven months if one wanted to be specific. She was over every night anyways, and her room at her and Ruby's apartment was practically empty.

At his house she had clothes in the closet, books on the shelves, scrubs absolutely everywhere, a side of the bed, and a toothbrush and all manner of feminine smelling soaps and shampoos in the bathroom.

They were happy together, in love, but not stupidly so. They had habits that annoyed each other- she took too long in the shower and worked entirely too much, he mixed his laundry together in one large load and tried to agree with her to avoid arguments, even if he had a different opinion, and later complained.

But they still worked.

And she and Bae absolutely loved each other.

Which brought him to his problem. He needed to find out how Bae would feel about Belle staying with them permanently. Love and adoration aside, it might be strange for Bae to suddenly have someone new (though Belle wasn't really new) around all of the time rather than most of the time. And his own feelings aside, if his son was uncomfortable with the situation, Gold would hold off on the matter until all parties involved were on board.

There was still the matter of asking Belle herself, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Later.

First Bae (because he always came first, always), and then he'd tackle Belle (just not literally).

He approached the subject on movie night, with Bae running off a bag of skittles he'd somehow smuggled in and promptly devoured after dinner.

"Bae... how would you feel about Belle coming to live with us?"

Bae, in the process of running around the living room with his cape on, waiting for the movie to start, paused by the TV to study his father.

"Belle is gonna live with us?"

"Well, I have to ask her if she'd like to, but maybe." Gold tried to shove the new battery into the DVD remote, biting back a curse when the back of the remote refused to slide back into place. "I'd like her to live with us," he said.

"Me too," Bae said excitedly, jumping over the coffee table to land face-first on the couch. "I want Belle to stay forever!"

Gold watched him wiggle upright. "Really?"

"Will she have to move her superhero cave?" Bae wanted to know. "Where would she put it?" He bounced on the cushion excitedly. "Is there a secret passage behind the fireplace? She could put it there!"

Gold couldn't hold back the laugh and pulled Bae over for a tight hug, his heart light and nearly bursting. "We'll see," he said, dropping a kiss to Bae's hair. "Now, are you sure you want to watch _Superman Returns_ for the fifth night in a row? We could watch something else."

"Superman!" Bae crowed, adjusting his cape. "Superman, Superman, Superman!"

With an indulgent sigh, Gold pressed Play, and settled down to watch a movie with his son.

* * *

"No, I understand that-" Belle dropped her head into her hand, staring at the papers in front of her with a mournful gaze, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. "I'm not trying to get out of the payments, I'm just wondering why my interest rate has gone up for the third time in six months when I've never been late on a payment."

Gold closed the door quietly behind him, trying not to disturb Ruby, napping on the couch, her stage makeup smeared across the throw pillow. He'd seen her newest show, a three-hour production of Cinderella that for some reason had an appearance by Rumplestiltskin. It was brilliant, and even he could admit that, but had to be tiring.

"I'm aware that I'm out of deferments. No, I will be paying, but I have other student loans to repay as well, and their interest rates have not climbed nearly as much."

That didn't sound good.

Belle had mentioned that her interest rates were going up on her loans (and Gold had nearly choked at the amount she owed- why was education so expensive?), but it sounded as if things were far more serious than he thought. Belle was close to losing her temper. He was willing to bet the only reason she was keeping her voice down was due to the ballerina passed out a few feet away.

"It says right here that my rates would climb if I ever missed a payment, which I have not, so why are you raising my interest?" Not liking what she heard on the other end, Belle clenched her fist hard around her phone, looking like she was two breaths from throwing it against the wall. "I'm working sixty-five hours a week, trying to keep up with payments, and now you're going to raise the amount for no reason? At this point I'm not repaying the loan, I'm just paying for the interest!"

Unfortunately, despite being a lawyer, Gold had next to knowledge about taxes and interest rates other than the ones he set himself for his rental properties. He could ask around though, see if anyone who owed him a favor knew anything or could help.

Belle worked so much so she could make loan payments and still afford her other bills. Now though, she was struggling to pay everything, even with her insane schedule. Ruby had admitted to paying the rent herself that month, a gesture which had horrified and embarrassed Belle, who had forgotten to budget for it. Ruby had waved away the attempts at paying her back, but Belle had been determined, swearing up and down she'd pay all of the rent the following month, taking extra hours to be able to do so.

(Ruby admitted to getting ahead on the rent for a few months due to her windfall of cash thanks to her shows, and wasn't planning on letting Belle, who'd let her stay rent free for an entire year before, pay anything for a while.)

Belle was exhausted all the time, her head barely hitting the pillow before she fell asleep. Her phone rang constantly, and she always said yes to the extra hours, because she needed the money.

Gold ran a hand across her shoulders, massaging gently, but they remained tense.

"No, I will not the customer support line. They told me to call you. Don't you transfer me-!" Belle violently pressed the end call button and dropped her phone onto the table, covering her face with her hands.

"Rough day?"

She groaned in response, lowering her head onto her arms and closing her eyes. Gold hung his cane on a chair and dug into the tense line of her shoulders, gently rubbing away the stress until she was limp and nearly purring.

"That feels good," she murmured, cracking one eye open to look at him. "We didn't have plans that I forgot about, did we? I've been on the phone all day with loan people and I'm not in the best mood."

"They tend to bring out the worst in people. I should know- I charge interest on late payments." He bent, kissing the back of her neck before pulling out a chair and sitting himself. "I was called a cold-blooded, greedy, demon-faced son of a bitch by an eighty-year-old grandmother this morning because I expected her to have her rent on time."

"How horrible of you," Belle laughed.

"I thought she'd read the rental agreement before she signed," he shrugged. "It clearly states that after you're late on rent the second time, the amount goes up fifty dollars, then an extra seventy-five every time after that. I even highlighted it. But I'm a demon-faced son of a bitch, what do I know?"

Belle snorted, leaning over to kiss him. "Where's Bae?" she asked, gathering her paperwork. "His weekend with Milah is next week, isn't it?"

"It's supposed to be, but we remember how last month went." They shared a look of exasperation tinged with sadness (and a bit of anger on his part). "He's over at August's. He has a new video game of some sort. I can't keep the boy at home to save my life."

Gold took Belle's hand before she could stand, gently pulling her back down to sit.

"I... have a deal to discuss with you."

"A deal, is it?"

He knew deals. He could handle deals.

Gold swallowed, nodding once. "Yes. As I'm sure you're aware, most of your clothing has attacked my closet and conquered the land, staking their claim by forcing the native suits into a small corner."

Belle's heart began to beat very fast.

"Yes, the Battle of Dresses. I've heard of it."

"Well, it seems to me that it would be best on all fronts if, perhaps, their leader was around to control the takeover, and oversee the March of The Scrubs in the dresser."

"You... want me to be around more?" She tried not to sound too hopeful. Long work hours had been known to put a lot of men off a relationship, and Belle had been worried that Richard might have been tired of coming second place to the ER.

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I want you to move in with me. And Bae."

Belle's eyes went wide.

"I- really?" She felt her mouth begin to curve. "Richard, are you sure? This is a big step. It's huge. I mean, I'd love to, of course I would- stop smiling like that, you'll distract me when I'm trying to be mature and rational instead of positively giddy- but this is monumental. I've never lived with anyone I'm dating before, I could screw it up somehow- I said stop smiling like that."

"Sorry." But he wasn't.

"What about Bae, what does he think?" Happiness aside, Bae could have a different opinion than Richard, and the last thing Belle wanted to do was cause friction between them.

Richard pulled her in for a long kiss. "The fact that you put my son ahead of your happiness makes me love you so much more," he murmured, kissing her again. "I love you, Belle, and I want you to live with me, as long as you'll have me."

Ruby's sleepy voice floated from the couch. "There are boxes in the guest room." Her hand appeared to point in the general direction of the room. "I've been saving them for when you made it official."

"But Ruby, what about-"

"We've lived together since you moved here, and I'm forever grateful you got me out of my grandma's house, but your room has been empty for months. Go move in with your boyfriend already, or I'll be forced to kick you out and he'll have to take you in because he's a good guy like that."

"I am?"

Ruby sat up to glare at him. With her dramatic eye makeup (she was the evil stepmother who made deals with Rumplestiltskin), it was a rather effective glare.

"Yes, you are." She flopped back down, disappearing behind the back of the couch. "Now go pack, or I'll get Mary Margaret over here to do it, and you'll never find anything ever again."

Belle cupped her hands around Richard's face, turning him so she could plant kisses all along his cheek and jaw. "Okay," she said softly.

He began to smile. "Yes?"

Belle echoed the smile, kissing him softly. "Yes. I love you, Richard." And because it made her happy, so happy, to be taking the next step with the man she loved, Belle began to cry happy tears, and laugh when Richard, like a typical male, began to panic at the sight of them.

* * *

Across the Atlantic and Indian oceans, Moe French studied his computer with raised eyebrows as he read his daughter's glowing email. She hadn't been this happy since she got into that University that had made her move to the States permanently.

He knew his Belle, and he knew that she'd given her heart entirely to this man, this Richard she was now living with, something she'd never given anyone before, not even her (newly married) ex-fiance. Moe had thought Belle and Gaston a good match, but Belle had disagreed, and had stuck out on her own, changing her future with a plane ticket and a college information packet.

She was so much like her mother, adventurous and brave, and Moe decided that perhaps he should take an adventure of his own.

He opened up a new tab, searching flights to America and wondering how much time he could take off before his employees would run wild. He needed to meet this man who'd stolen his daughter's heart, who appeared to be both a ruthless landlord and lawyer, and a loving father and devoted boyfriend.

Eying the clock and calculating the time difference, Moe reached for the phone.

"Blue Belle, how surprised would you be if I said I'd be visiting next month for your birthday?" He smiled, and began entering his credit card information. "Well, surprise. I'll be seeing you soon. And warn that fellow of yours about us Australian dads, would you? I'm sure I could sneak a snake or two past customs..."


	17. Chapter 17

Gold paced along the terminal, trying to look perfectly calm. He failed miserably, and he knew it, and Belle was laughing at him.

"Calm down. It's just my father."

He gave her a very bland look. "Right. Should I panic now, before he arrives, or later, when he's in the house with us and could kill me in my sleep?"

Belle handed Bae the green crayon he'd requested and made her way over to the man currently wearing a trench in the floor. She caught him around the waist, holding him still when he started to fidget just like Bae did when you told him to be quiet.

"He's going to love you," she insisted.

"I'm not very loveable." And it was a bad thing when the father of the woman you loved with every inch of your heart didn't like you. Milah's father had hated him on sight, and nothing had ever been good enough for that bitter old goat. Now he was moments away from meeting Belle's father, and maybe he wouldn't be hated on sight. Maybe it would take a few minutes. Or even an hour.

Regardless, Gold expected to be dead by sunset. Or on a plane to a remote part of Australia, surrounded by every manner of poisonous animals.

"_I_ love you," Belle reminded him.

As always, when the words washed over him, Gold felt his armor shatter. He smiled softly, bending and kissing her warmly. "I love you too."

"Papa look at the plane!" Bae yelled, rising up on his knees to peer out the window. "It's flying!"

Gold watched the planes land and take off over Bae's shoulder, pointing out a helicopter in the distance. "See it? It lands straight down, right over there on it's very own landing pad."

Bae tugged on his jacket, pointing to the plane attached to the terminal they were waiting in. "That one is big and right there! Can we go see it Papa? It's red 'n blue! It's so big and cool, Papa! Let's go see!"

Gold made a mental note to fly Bae somewhere in the future, just to get him this excited again. "This is as close as we get, I'm afraid." At his son's pout, Gold chuckled, ruffling up his hair.

"I wanna see the planes," Bae insisted, shifting in the seat.

"You can see them from here. Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

Bae wiggled, but nodded. "Uh-huh," he admitted. "That plane is leaving!"

Behind them, Belle was rapidly taking pictures with her phone, hoping she had enough memory to store them all. She really needed to save most of them to her new laptop (a birthday present from Richard after Bae had accidentally dropped her old one in the move) so she could take more without worrying about having to delete some.

"The planes will still be here when we come back," Gold promised. "Come on, let's go find the bathroom." He nodded down the hall as they passed Belle, him tugging Bae along behind as he tried to escape and watch the planes come and go.

Belle waved distractedly, watching the planes herself, then the people filing out of the planes, wheeling their suitcases and luggage behind them, searching for a face she'd know anywhere.

When she saw him, they both broke into grins, and Belle broke into a run. They met in the middle, Moe grunting with the effort to both keep himself upright and hold Belle to him. He wanted to pick her up, swing her around like he did when she was little, but he was too old to do such things now. So he hugged her tight, and laughed when she bounced on her toes.

"It's so good to see you, Dad," she laughed, squeezing him once more.

"I missed you, Blue Belle." He held her at arm's length to study her. "Look at you, you're practically glowing. He must be a hell of a man."

She blushed and rolled her eyes, years of repressed teenage embarrassment flooding back in an instant. "Dad."

"I'm just saying. It's not every day you fall in love."

And she was in love, he could see it plain as day. The extra spring in her step, her wide smile, the twinkle in her eyes, the way she bounced and floated around as they walked. Yes, his Belle was in love. Moe could only hope it was someone worthy, someone amazing that had stolen her heart.

A blur whizzed past and around him and was in Belle's arms before he could make out the shape, and suddenly Belle was holding a little boy, settling him comfortably against her hip as he chattered about the planes and the hand dryer in the bathroom being really loud.

"Who are you?" he asked suddenly, spotting Moe for the first time.

"Bae, this is my dad. Dad, this is Richard's son Baelfire."

Bae reached out to shake hands, just like Papa taught him. "It's very nice to meet you," he said politely, looking to Belle for approval.

Charmed, Moe shook his hand.

"And that," Belle pointed behind him, "is Richard."

Moe turned. Gold stopped, his face a picture of shock and confusion. No way. It couldn't be...

"...Captain Maurice?"

Suddenly, it was twenty-five, no twenty-_six_ years ago, bullets exploding inches from them, and a smart-mouthed teenager with a large chip on his shoulder was yelling, always yelling, in his face. Problems with authority, Scottish, barely legal, they were sure he'd lied about his age, and then he saved all their lives by accident, stomping ahead to whip around and yell at the Captain.

The landmine had been homemade, and poorly so, and it was a miracle he'd only brushed it or he'd have lost his entire foot, not just a large portion of his heel and ankle.

He walked with a cane now, wore a sharp suit that subtly spoke of his wealth. His hair was still too long. A flash of gold winked in his mouth. And the little boy his daughter was holding charged up to him and called him 'Papa'.

Belle was dating Gold.

Gold was a father.

"I'll be dammed," Moe breathed.

"Papa, this is Belle's Papa, did you know that she had a Papa too? He came on an airplane!" Bae grabbed his father's hand and dragged him towards the stunned man. "You're supposed to shake his hand," Bae reminded him. "Manners."

Startled, Gold laughed, and held out his hand. "Captain Maurice. Been a long time."

"Private Gold, son of a-" Belle nudged him, nodded at Bae. "-gun. Never thought I'd see _you_ again."

He'd probably hoped he'd never seen him again, and now Gold was living with his daughter. He was living with his old army captain's daughter. His old army captain who had been very good at what he'd done, who apparently retired to become a florist, but could probably still handle whatever weapon he could get his hands on.

Yeah. Gold was going to be dead by sunset. At the latest.

Bae, unaware of his father's impending doom, tugged on his hand. "I'm hungry," he announced. "Can we get McDonald's?"

* * *

Moe felt every one of his memories of Private Gold being washed away and replaced with those of Richard Gold the father. Richard Gold, the man Belle was utterly in love with. The man who loved her back.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, because no father liked to see someone else hold the number one spot in their daughter's heart, Gold truly seemed to love Belle.

It was in the little things. The way he looked at her, all smiles and soft eyes when she wasn't looking. The way he laughed (laughed!) when she got ketchup on her face. Bae was easy to fall in love with, and Moe snuck him his toy early, and it was clear that the boy loved Belle too.

Moe had been terrified when Belle announced she was moving to America. She'd know no one other than a pen pal she'd never actually met (who later moved in with her). And now she had a large group of friends, a career, a life. And a family.

Belle tilted her head back and laughed at something Richard said, shoving him lightly when he poked her and chuckled. Bae grinned at them both, shooting his toy helicopter's propeller into the air and chasing after it. After a while, and much begging from Bae, Belle disappeared with him into the play area, and Gold found himself alone with Captain Maurice. Which had probably been Belle's goal in the first place.

So this is how it would all end.

"Out of curiosity, were you the least bit afraid when Belle said her father was coming to visit?"

Gold snorted. "Oh, terrified," he said easily, gathering the napkins from the table. "When I saw that it was you? I nearly ran out of the airport. I was convinced you were going to shoot me."

"No guns allowed on airplanes. You're safe for now." He watched Gold watch Belle and Bae climb up the slide. "I'm not trying to be nosy, well no, I am and I'm not the least bit sorry, but what the hell happened to you? I remember a little boy with an anger management problem, not... James Bond."

Despite himself, Gold laughed. "I'm no James Bond." He sighed. "He grew into a man with an anger management problem, who got bitter as he got older, and then suddenly had a son, and a reason to get his act together." He gave Moe a sideways glance. "Lots of therapy, and an ex-wife who's angry enough for three people sucked most of the anger out of me, though the ex-wife is good about digging it up again at the worst times. Belle helps more than she realizes, especially when it comes to Milah."

"Belle keeps me up to date with most everything, the only reason I have a computer, really." Moe followed them with his eyes, grinning when Belle scooped up Bae and dropped him into the ball pit. "I heard about the fellow at the bar."

Gold winced. "Then you heard what I did."

A lifetime of self-loathing in that statement.

"Yes, and I want to shake your hand for that."

Startled, Gold turned his gaze from his son to the man across the table from him. He'd expected... well, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. Captain Maurice hadn't liked Private Gold any more than Private Gold had liked him. They fought constantly, nearly coming to blows on multiple occasions. Hearing that Gold had beaten a man with his cane wouldn't be surprising to Moe, but it certainly wouldn't be something to shake hands over.

"You were protecting Belle," Moe said simply. "A man does what he has to when he's protecting what's his."

Gold shook his head. "Belle is no one's person but her own."

And that, more than anything, decided Moe. "True enough. But I know a lovesick girl when I see one. She's over the moon for you."

"I'm in love with her."

"Yeah, I can see that too. The curse of a father is always thinking your child can do better. Nothing personal, it's just how we think, and you'll find that out in a few years. So I'll dislike you on principle for a while, but I won't shoot you."

Gold blew out a breath. "Well," he said eventually, opening his arms for Bae to climb into his lap. "I can't ask for more than that."

* * *

"I told you he'd love you."

Gold shrugged out of his undershirt. "He promised not to shoot me. I think that's as good as it's going to get."

Belle, already in bed, a book propped on her knees, grinned. "He liked Gaston, but it took him over a year. The fact that he warmed up to you in an afternoon means he _really_ likes you."

"Considering how you and Gaston turned out, I rather don't like that comparison." He climbed into bed with her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "But I'll admit that he seemed very different than I remember. Of course, I was seventeen and angry at the world. Twenty-six years is a long time."

Belle tilted her head back to look at him. "People change."

"Not always." But he had, and he knew it. He was still changing, still working through his anger, his bitterness, but he _was_ different. He would even admit that he was better than he had been back then. That wasn't saying much, but he was better, and that had to count for something.

"Stop arguing with me. I'm right."

Gold grinned. "Pulling girlfriend rank, are we?"

"I certainly am. And if you think you're going to win, I have some very bad news for you." She poked him in the side, shoving him until he lay flat. "Here's a piece of advice for you: the girlfriend is always right."

He pulled her down to sprawl on his chest. "Always? Like you were right about setting the timer for dinner last night? Or that, yes, you definitely had your keys?"

Belle stuck her tongue out. "I'm right this time," she said, brushing her nose with his. "I told you he'd love you."

"I'm a difficult man to love," he said, cradling the back of her head.

"Not that difficult," she promised, and let herself be pulled down for a kiss.

* * *

They saw Moe off a few days later. Hugs, handshakes, and kisses were bestowed all around, and Gold was genuinely sorry to see him go, if only for Belle's sake. Belle loved her father, and missed him a great deal, but her life was in America, and his was not, and so they parted ways.

Moe waved at Bae until he couldn't see him anymore, chuckling at the memories of the happy little boy, running around with Belle all weekend. He watched America disappear underneath him, reclining his (mysteriously upgraded) seat to study the ocean.

He wondered how long it would be before he was back on foreign soil again, this time with a fancy suit of his own in his luggage to wear when he walked his daughter down the aisle.


	18. Chapter 18

Living with Belle was a joy. She was there when Gold got up in the mornings (unless she was working), she was there to tuck Bae in at night (unless she was working), and she was there when he finally crawled into bed himself (unless she was, yes, working). Gold loved her, every bit of her, but she was wearing herself out.

And she was so tired all the time that she basically came home to sleep, if she had time, before dashing off again.

And now she was arguing with him. About a vacation.

"I can't afford to take a week off," she protested, stirring the chili.

"You get a paid vacation," Richard pointed out, tossing the salad. "It's high time you took it. Charlotte threatened to ship you off somewhere if you didn't put in for the time off. Ruby is more than willing to kidnap you and throw you in the back of a plane."

Belle shook her head. "There's no way. Paid vacation or not, I'll still only get paid for forty hours, and that's not nearly enough. I have three payments due, and my phone bill, not to mention the other payment coming up. Time off is the _last_ thing I need."

"Actually, it's exactly what you need." He captured her wrist, setting the spoon gently in the bubbling pot. "Sweetheart, you're exhausted. I live with you and I hardly ever see you. You're losing weight, you're not sleeping, and you're crabby all the time."

Belle snatched up the spoon, jerking her wrist away. "I am not crabby!" The chili swirled innocently in the pot, sloshing over the sides as Belle stirred. Seeing the mess she was making, Belle slammed the spoon back down, palms flat against the stovetop.

Gold quietly gathered up a few towels and began mopping up the mess.

"I'm not crabby. I'm just..."

"Tired," Gold finished for her. "Belle, you need a break."

"I can't afford any time off." She took the offered towel, carefully dabbing at the chili around the burner. "You know I can't."

He did know. "Yes, I'm aware of your situation with the banks as well as the private loans. I'm also aware that you missed two payments last month."

Belle slowly turned towards him, eyes wide. "How did you know that?" She'd deliberately not told him, or anyone, so there was no possible way _anyone_ could know she was behind. It wasn't a good situation. It would make her payments go up again, and she was already struggling as it was, taking shifts between shifts, not coming home for nearly twenty-four hours at a time. She'd worked two doubles in a row last month, and even with the overtime pay it still hadn't been enough.

"They called the house. I answered." He took Belle's hands, rubbing circles with his thumbs. This was about to go one of two ways. Belle would either be embarrased, or she'd be angry with him because she was embarrased. "I paid the amount, even the added interest."

Belle's jaw dropped. Horror filled her eyes. "No, oh Richard, _why_?"

"Because you couldn't." He shrugged, turning to stir the chili.

"You shouldn't have," Belle said quietly.

"And why not?"

"Because it's my job to pay them back! I took out those loans, so I could go to school, get a job. They're _my_ responsibilty, not yours." She put a hand to her head, rubbing off the headache that had been pounding behind her eyes for days. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"Belle." He turned back to her, brushed her hair back. "You can't afford the payments, even with all your extra hours. I have the money. You don't. I don't see the problem."

"That's the problem!" Belle stepped away, rubbing her forehead hard. "It's not about money, Richard. It's... I should be able to do this myself, without help. I don't want you to pay back what I borrowed. _I_ took out the loans. _I_ pay them back, not Ruby, not my father, and certainly not you."

"Why is it," he wondered, stepping closer, "whenever someone needs help you are right there, but the moment it becomes too much for you to handle, you take it all on anyways?" He ran his hands down her arms. "Belle, listen to me. I have more money than I could ever possibly spend in this lifetime, and even I have to say your loans are outrageous. You've done the best you can, sweetheart, but you need some help. I'm in a position to help."

Belle blinked back tears. "I don't want help."

"But you need it."

_Back in Black_, Belle's ringtone for work, began to scream from the table. Richard snatched the phone up and turned it off, tossing it into the living room, aiming for the couch but getting the coffee table instead. Good enough. He caught Belle before she could go after it, pulling her back to his front, locking his arms around her waist.

She had dark circles under her eyes. She was fighting a yawn even now. She was still wearing her scrubs because she'd just gotten home an hour ago from a twelve hour shift. She was exhausted.

"You work far too much. I miss you, Bae misses you, and it's time we all took a break." He kissed behind her ear, pressing his forehead against her hair. "Everyone needs help once in a while. Let me help, Belle, however I can."

"But-"

"Sweetheart, I love you. You're killing yourself. You're working eighty hours a week, and it's not enough."

"Then I certainly shouldn't be taking a vacation," Belle pointed out, growing limp against him. He held her tighter, kissed her temple. "Richard, I shouldn't. I can't. I need to-"

"You need," he whispered, "to relax. To rest. And to let me help you. Bae wants to go to the cabin on spring break. I told him you'd come with us."

Too tired to yell, Belle closed her eyes. "Don't bring him into this," she pleaded. She turned, face to face with him. Richard studied her, mouth turning down at the sight of her. She was so tired. Couldn't she see that?

"He misses his superhero." He kept one arm around her, half afraid she would fall asleep standing up and then topple over. "I miss my partner."

"Richard-"

"Do you want to spend a week away from Boston, just the three of us?"

She looked like she might cry, and that meant she was more tired than he'd orignially thought. "Of course I do."

"So let's do it. No work, no cases, no calls at two in the morning. Just you, me, and Bae, and a cabin." She folded into him, sighing deeply when he rubbed her back. Belle needed more than just a week away, but a week was all he, and their jobs (not to mention Bae's spring break), could give her. Maybe over the summer he could convince her to take more time, but for now, he focused on the current battle.

"The bills... Richard I can't."

"I've already paid them." He tightened his grip on her. "And before you yell at me about that too, let me point out that I did the math. You could only afford everything if you worked ninety hours per week for the next six months, and that's if the prices didn't increase."

He gave that a moment to sink in.

Sometimes, people needed help. Sometimes doing all you could do wasn't enough. Belle never asked for help, and so they'd all thought she hadn't needed it. But she had needed it, and those who could help were helping. Ruby knew Whale and was helping him get Belle's vacation hours together. Tiana and Charlotte were more than happy to work some overtime to pay for Tiana's upcoming wedding, and Mary Margaret was willing to lend him Emma for an evening in case one set of sad child eyes weren't enough (he suspected she needed Emma out of the house in order to plan her upcoming birthday party).

"Let me do this for you. You've helped me so much, given me- given us so much." He ran a hand through her hair, bending to kiss her. "Please, Belle. Let me just do this."

How could anyone say no those eyes, that voice?

Belle deflated, her head sinking into his chest. "Okay. Okay, fine," she said quietly. "One week. But you don't pay any more of my loans off."

Gold wondered how long it would take her to realize he'd made six month's worth of payments on all of her loans. "I promise, I will not pay any more than I already have, unless you get into another bind."

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he was hiding, but she accepted the kiss. "The chili's boiling over," she murmured.

With a muffled swear, Gold turned back to the stove, and grinned.

* * *

"-and there's a pool, and a hot tub, but Papa says I can't go by myself in there yet, but you could come with me Belle, it's gonna be lots of fun, we'll go swimming _inside_!"

Leaving Bae to sing the praises of the cabin they owned in Vermont (it was a very nice cabin, all hardwood floors and central heating on top of a fireplace and indoor swimming arrangements), Gold stepped into his office to answer his phone.

His good mood threatened to shatter when he saw the name on the caller id.

"Milah. To what do I owe this unusual surprise?"

"When is Baelfire's spring break?" she asked. He could hear cars honking in the distance. He wondered if she was in her art studio, located downtown, standing outside in her paint covered jeans as she put in her monthly call to annoy her ex.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Gold sighed. "Why do you want to know when his spring break is?" He had a feeling he knew exactly why.

"Because if it's my week, I'd like to get him the entire week if he's not going to be in school."

He was right. "It's not. You're getting him next week, not over spring break."

"Next week? What? No, I can't do next week. I have a gallery opening and then-"

"You're not getting him over his break. That's non-negotiable."

Milah fell silent on the other end, cars honking and tires screeching the only sound coming through. "You can't keep my son from me," she said quietly.

"I'm not keeping him from you. You're more than welcome to take him. I fought for you to have visitation rights, if you remember. But this year, spring break is mine."

"I didn't get him last year, and it clearly states in the arrangement-"

"You," Gold interrupted, switching on his computer, "didn't pick him up last year. You were _supposed_ to have him, and then you never showed. This year, he's going to Vermont with us."

As soon as he said it, he knew he'd regret it.

"Us? You mean my son is going somewhere with that young girl of yours?" Now she was getting loud. "No. No way. I forbid it."

"You don't have a say in the matter," he reminded her, scanning over their parental agreement. He had it nearly memorized, but always double checked. One could never be too careful when it concerned the fate of one's child. "I have full custody of Bae, and I can determine when you can and cannot see him."

"Don't you keep him from me."

Gold resisted the urge to break his lamp. How could she always make him so angry in such a short period of time? "I'm not keeping him from you. I'm adhering to the agreement _you_ signed. You get him next week. I get him over spring break. That's the deal."

He heard what sounded like a door slamming, the sound of cars fading more and more into the background before disappearing entirely. "Next week I can't-"

"Next week will be the third week in a row you've said you can't spend time with Bae. If it happens again, we might have to revisit the custody arrangement."

"I can't help that I have work to do! I'm running a business here!"

Gold really, really wanted to break something. Smash it under his heel and ground the pieces into dust.

"I'm running two, as well as taking on cases, and I still see him every day."

"He _lives_ with you. I have no control over when I see him and when I don't."

Gold saw red. "You have control over that and you always have, but you chose not to see him. I've never kept him from you- I fought so that you could see him as much as you're supposed to. You are the one who never arrives, who flitters off to god knows where without any explination. If you don't show next week, you'll be the one to tell him why. I'm done breaking my son's heart for you."

He hung up as Milah began to yell. If she didn't want to see her son, that was her business. He was done making excuses for her.

Bae peeked his head around the door. "Papa?"

Gold sat up straighter, removing his head from his hands. "Hey, son. What are you still doing up?"

Bae padded into the room, dressed in his Green Lantern pajamas. He climbed into his father's lap, carefully easing over his bad leg. He knew it hurt Papa sometimes, and that now he was getting too big to sit in Papa's lap, but he liked it, and as long as it didn't hurt Papa, he'd sit with him.

"Belle said it was bedtime. You didn't say goodnight."

Gold hugged him. "I'm sorry. I was on the phone. I shouldn't have forgotten."

"Were you talking to Mama?"

Gold winced. "Yes. How did you know?"

"You were yelling. About me." He folded into Gold's lap, impossibly small and fragile. "Mama doesn't like me."

"Oh, no, son. Bae, of course she does. Your Mama loves you very much. She wanted to spend spring break with you, but I told her you were going to the cabin with me. That's why we were fighting." He swallowed hard. "If you want to go with Mama instead though, I can call her back."

Bae shook his head. "I wanna go with you 'n Belle. Belle loves me, and she spends time with me." Bae sniffled, and Gold's heart broke. "I wish Belle was my Mama."

He didn't know what to say to that.

"Oh, Bae."

Sometimes, in his heart of hearts, he wished that too.

"Bae, I want you to listen to me. Your mother and I both love you very much, and Belle does too. We all do. But sometimes, it's hard having so many people want to spend time with you. I don't like sharing you, and I don't like it when your mother wants to change our plans. But if you ever want to spend time with her, I want you tell me, okay? I'll do my very best to make it happen."

Bae seemed to shrink into himself. "I don't wanna go to Mama's. I don't like it over there. She's always painting, and I gotta be quiet all the time. I like it here with you. I like Belle, Papa. Can Belle be my Mama instead? Please Papa?"

Outside the door, Belle put a hand over her mouth to hold in her sob.

"Milah will always be your mother," Richard said quietly.

"If you marry Belle, then she can be Mama instead of just Belle."

"Ah..."

Belle wiped her tears on her sleeve and took a few deep breaths. "Bae," she called. "I found your storybook. Are you ready for bed?"

"Come on, then. Let's tuck you in, hey? Otherwise Belle will come hunting for us."

Belle ducked into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Carefully studying herself in the mirror for signs of the tears, she dashed into Bae's room just before they appeared in the doorway. She gave them her biggest smile, opening the book to _Rumplestiltskin_, Bae's current favorite tale, reading it aloud until he fell asleep curled against her.

Belle held him for a moment, pressing a kiss against his curls. She allowed herself to imagine, just for a second, his voice calling to her, his mouth shaping the word 'mom' instead of 'Belle'.

Imagined introducing him as her son- as _their_ son.

Gold was already in bed by the time Belle got in the shower, propped against the headboard, reading a book she'd left out. His mind couldn't be any further from the words on the pages. Instead he wondered, briefly (because a future like that couldn't possibly exist for him, not when it was so happy and exactly what he wanted), if Belle would ever want to officially become Bae's mom.

Because while Milah was his mother, Bae was in need of a mom, and there was a world of difference between the two.

Maybe eventually Belle, wonderful, amazing, brave Belle would be up for the job.


End file.
